The Awakening
by furygrrl
Summary: **Reposted in its entirety** - One of the most profound romances in Marvel history was left out of Evolution. I'm here to remedy that... Jean/Logan
1. Part One

Title: The Awakening - Part One  
Author: furygrrl  
Archive: Just ask first  
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, I just wanna borrow them for a little while.  
Rating: PG  
Author's Note: I know Logan favours cigars, but I've seen our favourite Canuck smoking a plain ol' cigarette before (ie. Wolverine #6)

* * *

"The Awakening" 

He sat.

The wind ruffled his dark, unruly hair. His nostrils flickered ever so slightly with each breath. His pulse leapt at his throat, almost unseen beneath his tanned skin.

Legs crossed, feet bare, eyes closed. He sat.

_My mind is cleared_, he thought to himself.

Inhaling deeply and then expelling, he attempted to focus his energies. It had been a long and strenuous week and he'd been looking forward to these few moments of solitude. He could feel the sunlight, warm on his bare chest, the wind lightly playing over his body, the moisture of the ground dampening his pants.

He revelled in pure sensation.

Breathing in slowly, his nose twitched.

_Ignore it_, he told himself sternly. _You're here to relax..._

He fought against taking another breath, but couldn't maintain his current state without doing so.

Perfume.

He could smell it stronger this time. Soft, slightly floral, and altogether distracting. He opened his eyes with a sigh of frustration.

He didn't see her immediately, but his senses told him she was nearby. A flicker of crimson flashed in the sunlight across from him, just beyond the newly blooming cherry trees. He continued to sit, waiting to see if she moved on. He could regain his tranquil state if she did.

A shadow appeared under the heavily blossomed trees; a hand materialized to lift a branch up so that the body it belonged to could pass underneath. Petals rained down on the figure, releasing their sweet scent into the air. He sighed again, tasting pollen on his tongue. He watched her emerge from beneath the branches, her mouth making a little 'O' of surprise when she caught sight of him sitting a few feet in front of her.

"Oh, I'm sorry Logan. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go to the other end of the garden," she said, eyes already seeking a new destination.

"Don't bother, Red. I was just leaving," he half growled.

"No, please. Don't go just because I came along. I'm looking for a quiet place to be alone. From the looks of things, so were you. If we're both quiet, I don't see a problem, do you?" she asked, her smile revealing her white teeth.

He grunted, a sardonic half-smile on his lips. "Quiet, yeah. But we won't be alone," he said, relaxing his rigid posture and stretching back on the new grass.

Jean came and sat down next to him. "Sometimes quiet is enough," she replied, her hand sweeping an errant lock of hair back behind her bare shoulder.

He didn't bother to reply, just watched as she made herself comfortable.

She wore a pair of shorts and a tank top, her hair hung loose to her waist. When she crossed her legs, he could see grass stains on her bare feet. She immediately copied the meditational position he'd so recently abandoned. She took a breath and closed her eyes, arms out-stretched, hands resting lightly upon her knees.

Aside from the bird calls, chirping insects, and gently rustling leaves, silence once again descended.

Logan watched her a minute longer before resuming his calming exercises.

His first deep breath told him he wouldn't be able to concentrate as he had before. Her smell was all around him, mingled with the freshness of the blossoms that had settled in her russet locks. Her fragrance, under normal conditions, was a tantalizing whisper. Now, seated next to her, his heightened senses were punished with pleasure - leaving him feeling intoxicated.

Opening an eye, he stole a glance at his student.

She was motionless.

He let his gaze wander over her absently. He noted how long her lashes had become, how their sooty darkness contrasted with the paleness of her cheeks. Her lips, full and rose-tinged, were moist with gloss. His eyes travelled down the sleek curve of her neck, noting her fine bone structure, rounded shoulders, swelling breasts...

He immediately snapped back to himself. Disturbed from the turn his thoughts had taken, he moved, about to rise.

Jean's eyes fluttered open. "Where are you going?" she asked, watching him stand.

"Can't concentrate. Not your fault, Red. Go back to the exercises. You're doin' fine," he grumbled, turning to stalk away.

She reached a hand out, catching his. The gesture surprised him, causing him to hesitate. He could feel her softness, incongruous with his own rough skin.

"C'mon Logan, you don't have to leave. We could just sit and talk. We never get a chance to do that anymore. I can do the relaxation thing later," she said, a pleading tone creeping into her voice.

He nodded slightly, still facing away from her. She was right. They didn't get much of an opportunity to talk outside of school or training lately. As one of the Institute's mentors, he had a responsibility to his charges whenever they may have need of him.

_But that isn't the reason you want to stay, is it?_ a voice whispered inside him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of that thought, he turned to Jean. She still held his hand in hers, a beguiling smile lighting up her face.

"Am I right or am I right?" she asked, tilting her head, her eyes conveying her amusement.

Extracting his hand from hers, he stifled the irritated growl that threatened to rumble from his throat. Instead, he lowered himself back onto the ground and stretched out, leaning against the tree behind them. "Whaddaya wanna talk about, Red?" he asked. "Make up? Shoe styles? The latest Boy Band?" Sarcasm leached into his words.

If she heard it, she paid it no mind. Laughing, she flipped onto her stomach, propping her chin in both hands. "Boy Bands!" she giggled. "How did you guess?" Her eyes, half-lidded, locked onto his.

Pulling a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket, he found it hard to look away from her. Her eyes were a more vibrant green than anything the garden had to offer, they sparkled like emeralds in the dappled sunlight, enthralling him.

Opening the cardboard cigarette pack, he reached for a smoke.

"Let me get that for you," she murmured, eyes now transfixed on what he held in his hands.

His movements stilled as he realized what she was attempting. A cigarette trembled in the pack, began inching its way out, slowly, almost teasingly. Logan didn't know why, but he could feel his blood warming, spreading throughout his entire body. He looked up from her display of telekinesis, only to find her gaze once again riveted on his face.

Still staring at him, she mentally brought the cigarette up to his lips, her face unreadable. Logan grasped the smoke from mid-air and stuck it in his mouth, decidedly uncomfortable. He struck the first match with such violence, it snapped, causing him to curse. His second attempt was more successful. He inhaled gratefully and flicked the used matchstick across the grass.

Blowing rings of smoke, he regarded Jean with a raised eyebrow, seeming to say with that one expression, 'You said you wanted to talk, so talk'.

She rolled onto her side, letting one hand rest in the new blades of grass. A rueful smile played over her lips. "It's funny," she said, sweeping hair over her shoulder again. "I finally get a few minutes to spend with you, and have no idea what to talk about." Her gaze dropped to the ground.

Logan couldn't be sure, but he detected a nervous quality to her, a tension. "Just tell me what's on yer mind, Jeannie. How're things at school?" he asked.

"Fine as usual. The semester's almost over, exams are coming up, but I'm not worried," she replied, still flicking her fingers through the greenery.

"Something about training botherin' ya?" he continued to probe. Not only was it his job, but her demeanour suggested she was trying to hide something.

She shook her head in the negative before looking up at him again.

"I can't help ya with this 'conversation' without some participation from your end. Give the old man a hand here," he said, tapping ashes onto the ground beside him.

"You're hardly _old_, Logan," she murmured, face obscured momentarily by her wind-blown hair. The few cherry blossoms that had intermingled with her bright tresses suddenly caught her eye. Reaching for a section of hair, she began plucking the velvety petals out, letting them flutter to the ground like confetti.

"You've missed a couple," Logan said, butting his cigarette out in the moist earth.

"I can't see them..." she groused, sitting up and twisting her body in an effort to locate the remaining few.

Muttering imprecations beneath his breath, Logan slid over to her, making sure to wipe his hands free of dirt and ashes on his pant-legs before touching her.

Gently, hesitantly, he let his fingers slide into the shimmering strands. The texture was as he'd imagined it; soft, silky, as delicate as the blossoms that nestled within. Jean had stopped moving as soon as she felt his touch, and so sat facing away from him. He waited for her to swing about and ask him what he was doing - playfully push him away while telling him she didn't need him pretending to be her hairdresser.

But she didn't. She sat still and silent, her body trembling faintly; Logan took no note of the latter. His attention was riveted on how sensuous her hair felt brushing against his wrist.

He marvelled at the sensation. It was as if a tendril of living flame draped across his skin, causing his flesh to tingle and burn in a most pleasant way. His fingertips slid down the length of the strands, freeing the tiny flowers, trying not to pull.

He felt Jean's shoulder against his bare chest, cool and soft against his muscled hardness. He wondered briefly how they came to be touching, but the thought quickly fled as the wind stirred her hair, tossing it across his upper body. He suddenly found himself with a face full of the gossamer threads, tickling the sensitive flesh beneath his ear lobes and along his throat.

His blood surged almost painfully, pumping hot and furious, as her clean, feminine scent engulfed him.

As the wind settled, so did her hair, exposing the tender flesh of her neck. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the hollow between neck and shoulder, the urge to simply let his tongue dip into that depression and taste her.

The full weight of her body leaning into his was what brought him back to reality. Her back pressed into his torso, the fabric of her shirt crushing the hairs on his chest. He could feel her fingertips splayed atop his thighs, her head resting almost fully in his palm.

Had he moved or had she?

It didn't matter.

Shocked and disgusted with himself, he pulled away, drawing his hand from her hair. His sudden movement caused Jean to turn and face him.

"What's wrong, Logan? Aren't you going to finish the job?" she asked suggestively, the look of innocence she wore belying the connotation of her question.

Logan stood, staring down at her with wild eyes. "Jeannie, I...I can't," he whispered brokenly, thoughts awhirl.

She couldn't possibly be referring to - ?

_I must be going through some sort of hormone overload - or a mid-life crisis_, he thought to himself.

Running a hand across his face, he fought for composure. Jean stood, drawing close to him.

"Is something wrong? You look flustered," she said, genuine concern in her tone.

He shook his head as an image flashed through his brain - one of him grabbing her roughly and plundering her mouth with his own. The vision was so substantial that he felt his tongue snake out to wet his lower lip in anticipation. Catching the offending lubricator between his teeth, he stared at Jean helplessly, wondering why this hunger seemed to come upon him all at once.

True, he hadn't been with a woman for what felt like years sometimes, but he'd always been able to control these primal yearnings without difficulty. He was a strong person who controlled his body, not the other way around.

And Jean - she was one of his _students_. Someone who trusted him, who looked to him for guidance and assistance, not lessons in depravity!

_Besides_, an inner voice told him matter-of-factly, _she's still a kid. What would a girl her age be doing trying to entice_ (he nearly choked at that word) _a dinosaur like you? She's probably got half the guys in her school after her and boyfriends for every day of the week. _

The idea was more than far-fetched; it was crazy.

_No, Logan, if you're going to get all bent out of shape over something, it'll be for some cool, long-legged broad - one that's out of pigtails and knee socks. Not that there's anything **wrong** with a little dress-up now and then_...

His last thought brought a chuckle.

His silent inner reasoning left him feeling foolish about the whole situation. He looked to Jean sheepishly.

"Sorry Red, didn't mean to spook ya, just having an age-related episode." He let a laugh escape while reaching for another smoke. She appraised him, eyebrow arched and arms crossed beneath her breasts, as if not fully convinced by his response. She remained silent though.

Grateful for that, Logan lit his cigarette. "I'm heading in, got stuff t' finish. Anything else you wanna cover before I take off?" he asked, filter dangling from his mouth.

She shook her head in the negative, eyebrow still raised, concern etched across her visage, not completely masking another look he couldn't quite place. He speculated as to what may have been going through her mind at that moment as he turned and sauntered off, trailing a puff of smoke behind him.

* * *

Jean remained standing where he'd left her for several minutes, locked in the stance she'd adopted at the time of his departure. Her gaze, staring in the direction he'd taken back to the mansion, was turned inward. Her mind combed over the entire incident that had just passed, lingering on certain details. 

It was no accident that she'd stumbled on Logan during his exercises, a time she knew he'd be far from the Institute and completely alone. She hadn't chosen her attire to soak up the sun's wan rays, nor had she dabbed herself with expensive perfume or left her hair unbound for no good reason. It wasn't by chance her skin had met with his.

She shivered at that last thought, desire flooding through her veins. She could feel goosebumps prickle along her arms.

She sent a silent thank-you to the newly blooming fruit trees she'd had the good luck to pass beneath before arriving. Their adornment proved to be a valuable asset to her already impressive arsenal.

Despite her excitement, she could feel a weariness creeping over her.

_I should take a nap before the evening meal_, she thought.

Lying down in the spot Logan had abandoned, she luxuriated in the golden beam of daylight that suddenly slanted into the clearing. She threw an arm across her eyes, yawning.

It was hard work, she considered sleepily, using her powers to suggest passion with subtlety, to hint at desire with delicacy, to impart visions of lustful acts that would seem as natural as an errant thought.

A grin curved her lips.

_That last image I sent to him nearly did the trick. Next time_, she vowed, _he won't hold back...I won't let him_.

_We'll see how he views this 'kid' after round two, pigtails and knee socks indeed!_


	2. Part Two

Title: The Awakening - Part Two  
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, I just wanna continue to borrow them for a little while longer.  
Rating: PG-13 (rated for mild language)  
Summary: Jean attempts to change Logan's perception of her.  
Author's Note: Once again, I know Logan favours cigars, but he's doing the cigarette thing just for me! For those who don't know, 'Molson' is a Canadian beer company, and 'Body by Jake' is a real infomercial. He refers to his Abs as 'Abba-dabbas'. Sorry, I have no idea why...

* * *

The Awakening - Part 2 

Jean sat alone in her room, a pen clutched between her teeth, notebooks and papers strewn all about. Music played quietly in the background as she read through an over-sized textbook, occasionally jotting down a blurb in a book she had in her lap. Finally, letting the pen fall from her mouth, she closed both books. Stretching enormously, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. A glance at her bedside clock told her it was later than she'd expected.

_Almost 2 am. Another exciting Friday night has passed me by_, she thought with a grimace.

Gathering her homework, she dumped it unceremoniously into her school bag. Even though the hour was late and she'd spent the entire day without a moment of rest, she found that she was far from sleepy.

_What to do now... _she wondered, mentally checking to see who was around.

The Professor - asleep.

Ororo - awake but reading in bed.

Scott and Mr. McCoy were still installing new equipment in the lab.

Kitty, Kurt, Evan, and Rogue were at an all-night movie marathon at the town's ancient drive-in; they wouldn't be home until after breakfast that morning.

The rookies had been asleep for hours.

_That just leaves little ol' me_, she thought with a sigh.

She glanced around for the book she'd been reading earlier that week but couldn't find it. Deciding that was a good thing, she opened the door to her room and made her way downstairs. She stopped briefly in the kitchen to grab a Diet Coke and then proceeded into the living room.

Not bothering to turn on the light, she flopped onto the couch and felt for the remote on the side table. Turning the tv on, she flipped through the channels while simultaneously using her teke to pop open her soda can. After taking a sip, she tucked her bare legs underneath her and continued to surf through the boring programming that presented itself.

Infomercial, talk show re-run, lame movie, infomercial, infomercial... She sighed again. Caving, she tossed the remote beside her, letting the infomercial for 'Body by Jake' continue.

"...and that's not even the best feature of this body-sculpting doo-hickey, is it Jake?"

"Nooooo way, Janice - who, by the way, ISN'T an actress, but a satisfied customer - this here Ab-tronic Muscle-fyer with added Pec enhancement thingies has soooo many great features, I'd be, heh heh, _Hard Pressed_ to list them all!"

"Tee hee hee! Did you hear that, super-excited studio audience? Hard Pressed! Jake, you're not only buff and sexy, but you're extremely amusing! Tee hee hee..."

((super-excited studio audience claps and cheers and laughs))

"It'd take more than the 50 bucks they pay to get me that excited," Jean mumbled, sipping her soda again. "They probably spike the complimentary orange drink before the show."

Studying the show's host, Jake, she noted his physique with a critical eye.

_Firm, but not rock-hard. Defined, but not wholly sculpted. Skin's smooth, not hair-covered like a real man should be..._

She closed her eyes a moment, letting an image of Logan stroll through her thoughts. "Mmm- hmm...now _that's_ a man," she whispered, feeling herself flush.

Suddenly, she heard the growl of a motorcycle engine in the driveway and watched as the beam from its lone headlight arced brightly into the room in which she sat.

_Logan!_ She thought excitedly. _He wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow morning!_

Since their moment in the garden a week ago, she hadn't had any opportunity to be with him alone, and had to settle for crossing his path as often as she could. This was a lucky break.

Sitting up, she took stock of herself. Fresh from her earlier shower, attired in her tiny pink baby doll t-shirt and matching boxer 'jammies, hair slightly damp and gently waving around her face, she knew she presented a fetching sight.

Hearing boot-heels click on the outside walk, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

_Take it easy, Jean, you know what to do_, she told herself silently, lightly moistening her lips with her tongue.

Feeling prepared, she waited for the front door to open. When it did, she nearly jumped. She heard him drop his bag on the floor of the marbled foyer, heard him clomping about noisily for a minute before coming into the living room. She could feel the familiar tingle of nervousness and nausea threatening to sweep over her as he approached, but clamped both down firmly.

_You're not a little kid anymore!_ She admonished herself. _You're a woman grown - how are you going to make him see that if you don't even see it yourself?_

"Hey Red, whatcha doing up so late?" he called softly from behind her, standing in the doorway of the room.

"I was lonely, tv's the only company around tonight," she said, making her voice sound small and a little sad. Turning to look at him, she could only make out his silhouette framed in the hall's light. Silently, she willed him to sit with her, praying he wouldn't just go to bed.

"Looks like lousy company t' me," he observed, watching Jake and his not-an-actress assistant Janice getting tangled up in their workout machine.

Jean smiled at him, knowing he could see her in the backwash of light. "Tell me about it," she said before turning her attention back to the screen.

Her heart beat erratically, waiting to see what he would do next.

He hesitated a moment, then walked away.

"Damn!" she muttered under her breath, surprised when pinpricks of wetness formed in her eyes.

She swiped angrily at the tears before they could fall, disappointed with herself.

_You should have done something different_, she fumed inwardly, running a hand through her hair.

She stared unseeing at the television for another minute, letting her thoughts tumble about aimlessly before deciding to retire her room. She'd had enough of the overly perky Janice, the obviously drunk studio audience, and the borderline retarded host, Jake.

* * *

Logan went to turn off the hall lights. 

Standing in the darkness, one hand on the heavy oak banister of the grand staircase, he debated whether or not to go to bed, or to sit with Jean and watch some bad tv.

He was still pumped from the long ride back to the mansion and as such, knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right away. All he'd been able to think about down that last stretch of highway was kicking back with a cold beer and letting himself veg in front of the tube.

_Just because Jeannie's around doesn't mean I still can't do that_, he told himself, quietly making his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. _She'd probably be glad t' have someone to sit up with_, he continued in his mind, dropping the twist cap into the garbage.

Walking towards the living room while taking a healthy swig of the foamy brew, he firmly tapped down the sense of expectation he felt building inside him. He knew the feeling was because of Jean, because they were alone, and because, despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her all week.

He wasn't going to let his emotions take control of him this time.

* * *

Jean was about to turn off the tv when a hand grabbed for the remote just before she touched it. Jumping back in alarm, she looked up to see Logan clutching it, an open Molson in his other hand. 

He smiled at her, amused. "Didn't mean t' scare ya," he said, chuckling. Taking a mouthful of his beer, he sat down on the opposite end of sofa, parking his still-booted feet on top of the coffee table.

Embarrassed at being caught off guard, she glared at him. "You didn't scare me, just startled me, that's all. I thought you'd gone to bed," she said indignantly, reaching for her drink.

He continued to flip aimlessly through the channels before responding. "Don't feel like bed yet," was all he offered, not looking at her.

Jean's hands twisted in her lap, unprepared for what to do next. She'd lived this exact scenario in her mind for months, always appearing confident and knowledgeable during her daydreams. How different she felt now, like the schoolgirl Logan thought her to be.

Pushing such negativity from her mind, she instead uncurled her legs from under her body to let them stretch out beside her, toes almost touching Logan's denim-clad hip.

"What brought you home early?" she asked, thankful that her voice remained steady.

He'd settled on an old western flick, one that she'd never seen before. Men wearing the traditional cowboy garb argued fiercely, brandishing guns at one another.

"Finished what I was doing ahead of schedule," he mumbled, eyes glued to the movie.

"And...what was that?" she asked, once again telepathically checking on the other occupants in the mansion.

Ororo was now sleeping, Scott and Hank had travelled off to their rooms by way of the back stairs a few minutes ago, and everyone else was deep in slumber.

"Sumthin' for Chuck," Logan replied, turning to face her with a wink. "Top secret."

She stared at him earnestly, catching his eyes with her own, watched as his face slowly lost the teasing expression it wore. He broke contact first to return to his movie, gulping down the last of his beer. He looked at the empty bottle suspiciously, as if wondering where all the liquid had disappeared to so quickly.

"Want another one?" Jean asked softly, leaning forward. She could feel her unfettered breasts shift with her movement, straining against the ribbon closure of her shirt. She held out a hand for the bottle.

"Sure," he said, fighting to keep his eyes off the whiteness of her cleavage. His pained look was strangely reassuring.

Taking the bottle from him, she followed the now-dark hallway to the kitchen. She placed the empty on the counter, opened the fridge, and extracted three bottles.

_Don't want to be jumping up for new beers every five minutes..._ said the logical part of her brain.

She handed a bottle to Logan before she sat down, placing the other two beers on nearby coasters. She heard the air escape as he twisted off the cap, watched the shadows play over his features as he drank, and used his inattention to shifta little closer to him, trying to be unobtrusive.

She could smell the leather of his coat, which he still wore, the faint perfume of tobacco that always clung to him, and now, the tang of alcohol. His smell was enough to cause her stomach to knot, warmth flooding to her lower region.

She pretended to be interested in the movie.

"What's this movie about?" she asked, fingers playing with her hair. Gently, lest he suspect, she probed the most outer portion of his thoughts, hoping to slip in a suggestion.

"Good guys fightin' the bad guys," he answered simply, just as she touched on a random thought.

_...hair smells so **damn** good...like summer and rain and warmth..._ echoed through her head. She held her breath, not daring to hope that he was thinking about her.

Seeking another thought, her mind pushed a little deeper.

_...just a child, just a child, a pretty **child,** Logan, not a grown woman, not **yet**..._

She retracted back into herself, the vehemence of that last thought leaving her shaking. She wanted to hang her head and cry.

He could appreciate howattractive she was, could acknowledge his tentative interest in her, but it would come to nothing, she realized futilely. No matter what she threw at him, he would still see her as 'Jeannie', the twelve-year-old, the kid who pestered him mercilessly when she first arrived at the Institute.

He shifted positions, drawing her attention. She used his movement as another chance to slide closer, this time noting his sidelong glance her way, wary and a little stern.

"I'm cold," she said by way of explanation, shrugging her shoulders.

He reached out a hand and felt her leg as if to feel for himself, causing electricity to shoot from that point of contact. His hand jerked back immediately, as if he, too, felt a shock.

"Should be wearin' more clothes," he grumbled into the neck of his bottle, pointedly looking away from her.

He must have seen her slump at his comment because, to her great delight, he lifted the arm that was closest to her, signalling her to close the gap between them. Numb from excitement, she pulled herself over, trying without much success not to snuggle into him. The comforting weight of his arm draped around her, and she let herself lean into his chest.

Her heart beat like a trapped bird, wanting to be free. She could feel his heart thumping solidly through his flannel shirt, through her own thin nightshirt. She attempted to match his steady rhythm, idly turning back to the television for distraction.

The main character was in deep conversation with a beautiful, bonnet-sporting girl, her hands clutching his. She spouted all sorts of passionate endearments, her eyes overflowed with tears, her bonnet fell off to reveal her dark hair. All the while, her hero looked off into the distance, as if he couldn't trust himself to look at her face and remain strong.

Jean was aware of Logan's cheek near her temple, could feel his breath stir the strands of hair closest to him. She heard his throat work as he downed another gulp of beer. She couldn't help herself as her mind slid back into his with the delicacy of a surgeon. She mouthed a quick thank-you to the Professor for insisting on all the extra practice sessions over the last few months. Without them, she'd be too clumsy to perform with such skill.

Overwhelming feelings of restraint greeted her, surging through his brain, iron barricades that seemed to tremble faintly as if under great pressure. She let a whisper of desire float into his thoughts, saw a red haze cloud her vision as he registered it, adding to the growing feeling kept within the barriers in his mind. Coming back into herself once again, she knew that only a slight push would release all that pent up emotion.

The only question was how to accomplish it.

* * *

Logan felt as if he was coming down with a fever. His skin was flushed and overly warm, and his breathing had quickened. He could feel his pulse throbbing all throughout his body, from his fingertips to his toes, and more specifically, in his groin. 

_It's your own fault_, he snarled inwardly. _Thinking you could withstand a beautiful, half-dressed **student **- one you couldn't keep out of your head for the last week. What kind of fucking moron **are** you?_

Angry with himself, he swallowed the last of his beer.

Before he could reach for one of the others, now beaded with condensation, one of them raised up and floated towards him, the cap popping off in mid-air. He snatched it, fighting to ignore her feathery hair tickling under his jaw. He downed more of the amber liquid, focusing totally on the movie.

_Just get yourself away from her. Pull yer goddamned arm off'a her shoulders and walk. Nothing would be easier_, he argued silently.

But he couldn't bring himself to move. She was so soft and warm, nestled in the crook of his arm like a kitten. Her fragrance aroused him unbelievably; the same smell he'd grown to crave since she'd stumbled upon him during his calming exercises.

"Where are the others?" he asked suddenly, voice tight.

She replied in a dreamy murmur. "Everyone but Kitty, Rogue, Evan, and Kurt are in bed. The other four are at the 'Dusk 'til Dawn' movie marathon that's being held at the drive-in. They won't be home until morning."

He couldn't be sure, but he detected a satisfied tone from her at that last statement.

He grunted and placed his beer bottle on the side table, fishing a cigarette out of his coat pocket with his free hand. Xavier didn't like him smoking in the house, and he usually respected that, but he'd be damned if he didn't need one right then and there.

A thin tendril of smoke was curling above his head when he heard Jean yawn, then felt her head drop to his chest. A hand affixed to his shirt and her legs crowded even closer to his, one of her knees slipping slightly over his thigh. Feeling her breasts rubbing against his torso through the filmy fabric of her night attire redirected all the pounding blood to his pelvis.

_Doesn't she know what she's **doing** to me?_ He wondered wildly, feeling half crazed with want.

He felt his control slipping further and further away from him...

* * *

Jean burrowed into him a little more, affecting a yawn while letting her head rest on his warm chest. She gave a contented sigh and her hand snaked up, positioning itself just below her chin, gripping his shirt. Her legs pressed more firmly against his, as if she was trying to get comfortable. The warmth that had pooled in her midsection became more intense, leaving her wet and aching. 

A low growl rumbled from Logan after a minute of her shifting. Curious, she raised her head to look at him, hoping she hadn't irritated him. His face was inches from her own, she could see the faint stubble of hair poking through the skin of his chin. She met his heated gaze unflinchingly, eyes wide.

Her hand absently twisted a button on his shirt.

She heard the hissing of his cigarette as it was dropped into the bottle of unfinished beer at his side.

His eyes roamed agitatedly over her face as if looking for something. She noted that his heartbeat was a little faster, his breathing shallower. His arm tightened around her almost imperceptibly, the leather of his coat making a creaking noise. She tilted her head a touch higher, silently inviting him to do what she knew he wanted to do, what she prayed he wanted to do.

His mouth descended, she felt his hot breath on her own parted lips, could feel her eyes closing in anticipation...

((BAMF!))

A cloud of smoke surrounded them both, the smell of brimstone heavy in the air.

Jean leapt from Logan's arms as if she'd been scalded, coughing and waving her hand around, trying to dispel the acrid fumes.

"Oops! Sorry meins Freundes! I did not expect anyone to be here so late!" Kurt said from behind the sofa before vaulting over it to plop unceremoniously between the two original occupants. "My bad!" he crowed with a laugh.

Jean regarded her teammate with a mixture of anger and shock, noticing Logan rising from his seat to gather his empty bottles.

"Kurt, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Why aren't you at the drive in? Where's everyone else?" she asked.

"Oh, they should be here any second. I decided to jump ahead of them so I could claim the best spot on the couch!" He said, patting the cushion under his rump. "We decided to leave because Kitty was falling asleep, Evan felt sick from eating too much junk food, and Rogue kept complaining that she didn't like any of the movies," he explained. "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you and - Logan? Didn't I see Logan when I arrived?" His head swivelled around, confused.

Realizing that Logan had left the room, Kurt leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially, "Why are you hanging out with Mr.Crabby-Pants anyway? Are you being punished for something?"

"No, we were just watching some tv, that's all," she said mildly, belying the extreme disappointment that threatened to suffocate her. She mentally flipped up the room's light switch to banish the ruined atmosphere.

The front door opened amidst hushed giggles, loud 'sshhhs!', and numerous footsteps. Kurt stuck out his tongue and bounced on his cushion while Kitty and Rogue, supporting a rather green-looking Evan between them, came into the now brightly lit room. Jean stood up and made her way around them to the stairs.

"Hey Jean! Aren't you, like, gonna stay an' watch some late night tv with us?" Kitty asked, lowering Evan down onto the other sofa. Rogue sat down next to Kurt and they began to argue over the remote.

Jean turned to her and smiled wanly. "No thanks. I think I've had enough television for one night."

She retreated up the heavily carpeted staircase, wondering where Logan had gone off to.

Voices from the living room floated up to her as she padded softly down the upstairs hall: "_Oh_! 'Body by Jake'! This is, like, the _best_ infomercial ever!" - "Ja! Leave it here! I want to hear him talk about his 'Abba-dabba's again!" -"Aww, c'mon y'all! We watched him for _3 hours_ last weekend! Don't none 'a ya appreciate variety?" -"We should try to get in as part of his studio audience if he makes _another_ infomercial!"

Opening the door to her room, Jean paused on the threshold, one hand still gripping the knob. Turning her head to look down to the other end of the hall, her eyes involuntarily sought out where his door would be, shrouded in the blackest of shadows.

_If I went to him now, would he...? No, the moment's passed_, she thought morosely, stilling the trembling that threatened to overtake her slight frame.

She shut the door behind her and prepared for bed, debating her next move.

* * *

Logan waited until he heard the soft click of her door closing before moving from his dark vantage point outside his own room. 

_Had she come to me, what would I have done?_ He asked himself, the glittering of his troubled eyes the only light in the gloom.

That thought, coupled with her lingering scent on his skin, kept him awake long into the rest of the night.


	3. Part Three

Title: The Awakening - Part Three  
Disclaimer: Do you think Marvel would let me have some of the characters if I asked reeeeally nicely?  
Rating: PG - 13  
Summary: Anyone up for a game of tag?

* * *

The Awakening - Part Three 

"Jean! C'mon! Get a move on!" Scott called from the hallway as he passed by her bedroom door.

"I'll be right there," she replied, tightening her ponytail.

She regarded her image in a full-length mirror, and, satisfied with what she saw, replaced her hairbrush on her vanity. She made her way downstairs where her friends were waiting, all in training gear, listening to Storm as she gave them instructions.

"Ah, Jean, there you are. I was just explaining to everyone what this session was going to entail," Storm said, her snowy hair catching and reflecting the bright sunlight that slanted through the foyer windows. "Basically, this will be a glorified game of tag. Your job is to simply not get caught by myself, Beast, or Wolverine, before reaching the designated location. You may chose to work in teams or alone, whatever suits you," she continued pleasantly, eyes touching on each member of the group as she spoke.

"Where or what is the 'safe point'?" Scott asked.

Storm smiled. "That," she said, "is also part of the game. A green flag has been hidden somewhere within the boundaries of the estate, signifying the finish line. Once you reach it, you will be safe. Should you get tagged by one of the pursuers in the meantime, you are out of the game. If this occurs, return to the starting point. The Professor will be stationed there to monitor the game and provide further instruction should it be required. There is no time limit, so as long as you remain 'free', the game is on. Any questions?"

Jean waited quietly to see if anyone needed clarification, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Auntie O', where will you, Wolverine, and Beast start? With us?" Evan asked, skateboard resting in his arms like a child.

"We will start from pre-selected points. You may see us, then again, you may not," the mocha-skinned woman replied with a grin.

When no one else spoke, Scott took charge.

"Okay, team, let's get started," he said, leading the way outside.

Jean followed him, already plotting her course of action. She could feel sweat dampening her palms and wiped them down the length of her clinging, black bodysuit, the giddy nervousness that always came with a training session beginning to surge through her blood.

The late afternoon breeze brushed softly against her face, and she breathed in the rich smell of moist, spring earth with pleasure. The ground sank wetly beneath her booted feet, the recent rain having saturated it thoroughly.

_We'll be easily tracked_, she noted absently, eyes looking to the sun to see where it lay in the sky. It sat just above the western horizon, fat and golden, on the verge of setting.

The Professor's voice echoing in her mind drew her gaze. He was seated in his wheelchair a few feet away, woolen blanket draped across his legs.

_Are we ready to begin?_ he asked silently, sipping from a steaming mug.

Jean nodded along with the others.

_Good. Then on my mark...**GO**!_ he shouted telepathically.

Jean lifted herself up immediately and pushed herself forwards telekinetically, drawing away from the group. She saw Kitty grab on to Kurt, disappearing instantly in a cloud of smoke. Evan dropped his skateboard and found, to his dismay, that the soil was too sodden to utilize it effectively. Cursing under his breath, he left it where it lay and dashed off, heading around the side of the manor. Turning her head, Jean could see Scott following her, Rogue a step behind him.

A shadow on the ground ahead told her that Storm had taken to the air as well and was right above them. Veering suddenly, Jean avoided her teacher's swooping dive with ease. A shout of surprise from behind announced that one of the others wasn't so lucky.

A copse of trees loomed in the distance and Jean decided to head for them, knowing the marker wouldn't have been left in the open, also realizing that she needed cover if she was going to remain untouched. Once within the leafy shade, she lowered herself to the ground and took a quick look back. The broad expanse of lawn was empty except for the Professor. Scott, Rogue, and Storm were nowhere to be seen.

Scanning the wooded area with her eyes and mind, she couldn't detect any unusual movement or careless thoughts nearby.

_Okay Wolverine, it's time to turn this game around_, she challenged silently, a wicked smile curving her full lips. _Let's see how you do as one of the hunted..._

Steeling herself, she began to run, attributing the flapping butterflies in her stomach to the thrill of the chase.

* * *

Logan perched on a tree branch high above one of the many paths that meandered through the estate, waiting to pounce on whomever was unlucky enough to pass beneath him. Grinning, he hoped it'd be Kitty or Kurt, knowing he'd scare the bejebus outta them. 

_You wouldn't mind if a certain redhead crossed yer path either_, an inner voice whispered slyly.

An image of taking Jean by surprise, dropping down on her and grabbing her roughly in a full-body tag suddenly flooded his mind, causing a flush to creep up his neck.

The memory of her scent assailed him, causing him to tilt his head back in longing reverie. Closing his eyes, he recalled how she'd looked several nights back, before they'd parted last; her slight form crowded against his, hands grasping his shirt, all soft skin and silky hair.

Kurt's interruption had been a timely one, stopping him before he let the situation get out of control.

_But it **is** out of control_, the slick inner voice taunted in an amused tone. _You can't stop thinking 'bout her, can't sleep without dreaming 'bout her, can't wash away that sweet smell 'o hers with all the cold showers in the world...can ya?_ The voice laughed mockingly.

_Her age ain't botherin' ya so much anymore, is it?_

Frustrated and angry at the turn his thoughts had taken, Logan resisted the urge to growl, instead turning his attention back to the ground. Still seeing nothing, he leapt lightly to the gravel path, annoyed with the inactivity of his chosen location.

"Huntin's so much better'n waitin'," he said quietly, teeth bared in a feral grin.

* * *

Jean paused behind the bole of an old oak tree, panting heavily. Whipping her head around, she gazed back down the dirt path she been sprinting along, looking for any sign of Beast. 

He'd sprung from some bushes about a mile back, startling her into panicked flight. She'd instantly immobilized him with her mind and dashed off, running without thinking. When she thought she was far enough away, she'd released him, breathless with the amount of control it had taken to keep him still for so long.

Quiet, indistinguishable traces of his thoughts could be heard from where she crouched, so she decided to wait. After another few minutes, the echoes were gone, and she was alone. Heaving a sigh of relief, she straightened up and tried to brush the muddy streaks of earth from her legs.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. McCoy," she huffed softly, having skidded into the ground during her escape.

Realizing that her cleaning efforts were futile, she turned her attention once again to her surroundings, re-evaluating her position.

She didn't recognize the path. Peering ahead, she saw a swath of grassy meadow that wasn't familiar either. Pondering what to do next, she blew a wisp of hair from her sweat-dampened face.

Retracing her steps would mean running into Beast again, and that certainly wasn't very appealing, leaving her with the only choice of pressing ahead into the unknown, which was equally distressing. The estate was so massive that it stretched on into unexplored acres, and she could find herself wandering in the middle of nowhere very quickly - far from the action, and a certain person.

Using her teke, she picked herself up and slowly moved across the meadow.

The sky had deepened to a twilight mauve since the last time she'd noticed it, the sun having completely set while she'd raced under the shadowed boughs. The sun's parting rays of amber and rose were already fading away, retreating from the darkness that approached with alarming speed.

Jean wondered idly how she'd fare under the cover of night. She also contemplated how she'd be able to locate that damned flag without being able to see it.

_Oh well, the marker wasn't what I was really after anyway_, she admitted silently, not able to quell the mischievous smile that appeared when she thought of what she was really seeking.

Once again within the cover of a treed area, she released her telekinetic hold, feet immediately sinking into the damp loam. Not wanting to be caught off guard again, she cast out the invisible threads of a mind probe as far as it would reach before starting an easy, distance-eating lope.

It was only minutes later when she heard voices in her head.

_...like why does he keep looking at me like that? It's, like, totally unnerving!..._

_...mein Gott! She is so beautiful..._

_Only Kitty and Kurt_, Jean thought, amused at first, then relaxing at the recognition.

Her head had begun to throb painfully with the constant effort of using her powers, so reluctantly, she let her brain take a break, instantly losing the connection to her young friends. Speeding up, Jean hastened towards where she'd 'felt' Kitty's thought originate from.

* * *

Stalking through the now night-blackened foliage like a jungle cat, Logan paused to sniff tentatively at the air, searching for a fresh scent. He'd just come from tracking Evan for a couple of miles, finally managing to flush the kid into Beast's path about a half-hour ago. Since then, his sensitive nose hadn't picked up on anything new. 

Then all at once, he caught an irregularity mixed in with all the traditional smells of a typical spring evening. He inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing,his mind quickly categorizing each separate odor, until all had been accounted for except for one.

His teeth gleamed in the scant light as he smiled.

After laying sleepless and tormented because of what that same fragrance had evoked in him over the past few days, how could he _not_ know who it belonged to?

"Gotcha Red," he rumbled with pleasure, tracking her now with silent ease.

* * *

A moment after she first detected them, Jean came upon the two younger members of her team as they strolled along a connecting pathway. 

"Jean! Like, where did you come from?" Kitty squeaked fearfully upon seeing the taller girl emerge from the gloom.

"No idea. Just followed this trail trying to dodge Mr. McCoy," Jean replied, a little out of breath.

"He's not, like, after you, is he?" Kitty asked quickly, hand on Kurt's arm in case they had need of a quick retreat.

"No, I left him behind," she said reassuringly. "Have you guys encountered anyone else?" Jean queried, hoping they had word of Logan's whereabouts.

"We managed to elude Storm earlier on, but just barely!" Kurt said excitedly.

"Yah, it was, like, totally intense!" Kitty gushed, hand still clutching Kurt's arm.

"Evan was tagged by Beast, and Rogue by Storm - or so Scott tells us. We bumped into him just a little while ago, still hunting for the finish line," Kurt continued, completely immersed in the shadows, the slight phosphoresce of his eyes the only indication he was really there.

"Umm...what about Wolverine?" Jean asked, trying to appear casual, though her thoughts were racing.

_Where could he possibly be hiding?_ She fumed inwardly, hands curling into fists of irritation.

"We haven't, like, come across him yet - thankfully! He'd probably, like, leap out of some bushes all crazy and frothing at the mouth, giving me a heart attack! If he's the watchdog guarding the flag, I totally don't want to find it," Kitty said with conviction.

Kurt patted her hand soothingly. "Not to worry, Katzchen, I would 'port us away before - ah-ah-_AHHHHHH_!" Kurt screamed suddenly, stumbling back against Kitty and then disappearing in a BAMF! of smoke, taking the other girl with him.

Unexpectedly alone and more than startled at Kurt's outburst, Jean spun around and into a defensive crouch, staring blindly into the dark. Her heart beat erratically as she used her mind to erect a small barrier around her body, the pain in her head returning as she exerted her will.

She knew it was just a game, one that she had no interest in winning, but she also didn't want to get caught, especially if it wasn't Wolverine doing the catching.

She heard a flicking noise, saw a spark flare and die, before a flame sputtered to life from the end of a match a few feet away from her. As if entranced, she watched as the light reflected off the face of the man who held it, languidly scorching the end of a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

"Logan." Her lips formed the word without sound.

The meager light revealed that he'd decided against donning his uniform - dressed simply in black denim and a black t-shirt, allowing him to become a shadow within the shadows.

Taking a long haul of his newly lit cigarette, he leaned back easily against the trunk of a tree opposite her position, not making any move towards her. He extinguished the still burning match with a breath.

"Isn't this the part where you run?" he asked, face no longer visible. Jean detected a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Isn't this where you try to tag me?" she retorted, glad that the darkness hid her trembling as she issued her challenge. She had difficulty admitting that her quaking stemmed from fear; fear that she had misjudged him, misinterpreted his actions from previous days, misread the entire situation.

Fear of rejection.

She heard him chuckle, a low, rich sound, one that she'd heard too seldom.

"_Try_, Red? You know me better than that. I never hafta 'try'..." he answered, tossing his half-finished cigarette on the ground before him, its smoldering tip leaving an orange trail as it dropped. She heard, rather than saw, his booted foot mashing it into the soft earth.

The blood quickened in her veins as she watched his form detach itself from the all-encompassing murk to stride towards her.

She straightened up shakily while retaining the shield, her knees suddenly having turned to jelly.

He came within inches of her, as close as the mind-generated barrier would permit him. He placed one muscled arm above her, resting a palm against the rough bark of the tree she'd backed up into. She could see his face now, see how the night had changed his eyes to pools of ebony and cast shadows across the rugged plains of his face, giving him a cruelly beautiful look. Jean's gaze lowered from his, down to his lips, his thickly corded neck, to the wide expanse of chest hidden beneath the cotton of his shirt. Her hand itched to touch him, to slide under the fabric and feel warm flesh against warm flesh...

The sharp 'SNIKT' of blades extending from his other hand snapped her attention back from its wandering admiration of his form. She watched as he raised his razor-like claws into her line of vision, and then, almost caressingly, let them stroke down the edge of her shield, his own eyes following the movement.

She found his adamantium touch, even on such a superficial level, undeniably erotic, opening floodgates of liquid heat into her lower region. A throbbing pressure between her legs became so apparent, so overwhelming, that she had to suppress the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"We don't need _this_, now, do we?" he murmured, indicating the barrier with another lazy stroke of his claws. "Unless you've decided to run while ya' still can..."

Her face came under his scrutiny again and she told herself to breathe, unprepared for, yet elated at his words.

Despite the nearness of her looming victory, a perverse feeling of naughty playfulness still remained, urging her to not capitulate so easily. Returning his look, she smiled teasingly, and pushed the shield outward, forcing him back a step.

"Not so fast," she began, dropping the teke-induced obstruction completely. "Since I haven't been caught yet, I see no reason to surrender willingly." And without another word, she darted down the trail, leaving Logan staring after her.

His initial reaction to her words was one of bewilderment, until he replayed what she'd said in his mind and detected her suggestive undertones.

His answering smile was decidedly wolfish. "So, she wants to play, does she?"

All doubts and misgivings were cast aside or forgotten, his blood having turned to fire at the prospect of hunting her down anew.

_Except when I catch up to her this time, there'll be no mercy_, he vowed silently, the forest floor flying beneath his feet.

* * *

Jean felt the muscles in her legs beginning to burn, protesting the harsh pace she'd set. 

"No pain, no gain," she managed to gasp out, hair waving behind her slender figure like a scarlet banner. She paid no heed to the discomfort, knowing it would all be over in another minute.

_Everything I've put up with today will have been worth it if Logan is end result_, she reminded herself.

She braced for his assault, knowing that even at top speed she was nowhere near his equal, and waited to feel his weight come crashing against her.

Squinting, she could see a moonlight drenched meadow ahead, inciting her to increase her current velocity.

_The perfect place for me to end this little competition_, she thought, heart fluttering from more than the exertion.

She stumbled onto the lightly dewed grass and paused, legs trembling and lungs heaving. She couldn't move another step if her life depended on it.

"Jean!" a voice called.

Dizzily, she looked up, absently wondering how Logan could have gotten ahead of her.

Only the person waving to her from a few yards distant wasn't Logan. It was Scott, standing beside a flapping piece of cloth, its colour indistinct from so far away.

_No! It can't be!_ She thought wildly, staring at her teammate's frantic gestures with a sense of despair.

Hearing a triumphant growl behind her, she spun sharply, just in time to take Logan's running charge full in the chest.

Tensing involuntarily, she waited for the painful impact she knew was to come when her body met the ground, only it never did. Opening her eyes, she half expected to find herself planted in the wet sod, nose-first. Instead, she was looking up into Logan's eyes, and could feel his arms wrapped protectively around her smaller frame, his body half covering hers where it lay.

She realized at once that he hadn't noticed Scott, as naked, uninterrupted longing was evident in his expression. His arms had tightened marginally around her, fingers of one hand tracing a gentle path down her back, eliciting a tremulous sigh from her. At the sound, his eyes focused on her slightly parted lips. His face started to lower to hers when Scott chose to announce his presence once again.

"Hey! That was a pretty rough tag, Wolverine! Is Jean hurt?" he called out, concerned.

With sinking disappointment, Jean waited for Logan to leap back from her at hearing the younger man's voice, and was more than surprised when he didn't. Granted, his head whipped up from hers hastily, but upon spying Scott's shadowy form a good distance away, he remained sprawled against her.

"No worries, Cyke. Just knocked the wind outta her," Logan replied before turning back to face her. Desire, now mingled with frustration, coloured his features.

Jean felt his arm move unhurriedly from beneath her, letting the tips of his fingers brush tenderly up the length of her neck as he did so, his thumb teasing the underside of her jaw. He made his way to his feet, the sudden absence of his weight atop her leaving Jean feeling bereft. She accepted the hand Logan presented to help her up, not able to meet his eyes.

Without further words, he left her where she stood to go to Scott who waited beneath the fluttering flag.

Jean wrapped her arms around her body, trying to retain what remained of Logan's warmth. She heard him congratulate Scott on his achievement, then announce that he was heading back to the mansion for a late dinner. Scott warned him to leave some food for the rest of them with a good-natured laugh, before turning to his friend.

"Jean! How could you let _anything_ stop you from attaining success, especially after all the effort you must have put into getting as far as you did? Your goal was _right_ in front of you, yours for the taking, and you just let it go," he groused, agitated at her failure. "I know it was just a game, but still..."

As she watched Wolverine disappear into the night, Jean could only nod her head in agreement.

"Scott," she said with a sigh, "you have no idea how right you are. It was right in front of me...all mine..."

_But the game isn't over yet_, she swore vehemently. _Not by a long shot..._


	4. Part Four

**RATED 'R'  
WARNING - PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!  
This chapter contains sexual situations, violence, and offensive language.  
If this is NOT your cup of tea, please stop reading now.  
**Disclaimer - Not mine, none of 'em. Any questions?

* * *

The Awakening - Part Four 

Logan ran his hands through a mass of luxurious, red hair, feeling it slide over his skin like silken threads.

"Jean..." he murmured, feeling her trembling body pressing close against his own, her fragrance enclosing him in a sweet cloud.

She was warm, wrapped securely in his arms, her fingers lightly tracing a path along his shoulders and up against his neck. He could feel his blood burning and his heart pounded almost painfully, his breath was coming in panting gasps. Pressing his lips against her throat, his tongue darted out and played along her collarbone, causing her to shiver and moan. He couldn't resist nipping softly at her sweet flesh, her delicate frame shifting closer to him as he did so.

His knee nudged her thighs apart, to which she responded by pressing herself wantonly into his firmly muscled body, gripping the intruding leg between her own so she could grind her pelvis against it. Logan could feel her wet heat penetrate through his jeans, could smell her arousal mingling sharply with the heady perfume that surrounded and intoxicated his senses.

Jean's hand slipped under his t-shirt and teased the wiry hair that covered his chest, while her lips danced along the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Logan..._Logan_..." she breathed in a passionate, pleading voice, her full breasts finding their way into his eager hands.

"_Jeannie_..." came his answering groan, overwhelmed by her obvious desire.

"Logan...Logan!" Her call seemed to recede, coming from further away.

"Jeannie?"

The red hair seemed to disappear before his confused stare, her form becoming insubstantial in his embrace. Her tantalizing smell seemed to evaporate along with her, leaving only the faintest whisper for him to savor.

"Logan?" the same faraway voice queried.

His eyes opened groggily...to Kitty standing over his bed.

He blinked several times before his eyes could focus, the sunlight pouring through his windows nearly blinding him with its intensity. In his newly woken state, he could see Kitty looking at him strangely, expectantly,...uneasily.

"Umm...I was sent to see if you'd be joining the rest of us for breakfast. Ororo's made her special pancakes," she said, fidgeting nervously.

Logan sat up and found himself entangled in his sheets - damp with sweat - and, to his dismay, uncomfortably erect. Cursing in irritation not completely of the bedclothes' making, his claws suddenly shot out and sliced the costly fabric into ribbons, making Kitty jump. Catching her look of wide-eyed shock, he tried to compose himself and attempted a wan smile.

"Sorry, Half-pint. Didn't sleep too well," he said by way of explaining his obvious bad mood.

"And soooo...you, like, take it out on your _sheets_?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Something tells me that the Professor isn't going to accept a 'bad dream' as the cause of death for his pricey flannels." She picked up a shred of the cloth and appraised it, absently asking, "It _was_ a bad dream, though, wasn't it?"

Logan's hand came up to massage his forehead wearily. "Yah, you could sorta say that," he grumbled before wondering what she meant. His eyes went back to her, wary and guarded. "Why?" he asked darkly.

Kitty looked as if she wished she hadn't bothered to ask. "Oh...uh, no reason!" she said, forcing a shaky laugh, the ravaged bit of sheet falling unnoticed to the floor. "I just heard you, like, making all this noise when I knocked on your door and then I came in when you didn't answer and you were, like, calling out for, uh...s-someone and thrashing around and uhm..." Her words poured out in a rush and her cheeks became pink with embarrassment at recounting her intrusion.

Logan sighed heavily and pressed the heels of both palms against his eyes. The momentary darkness brought his dream back to life in startling, vivid colour. He could almost feel the tickle of russet locks brush against his face...

He lowered his hands, a good-natured, if still sleepy, smile lighting his features. "Go on down to breakfast, kiddo, I'll be there in a coupla' minutes."

She gave him a relieved nod and padded out of his room, bare feet making no sound as they tread across the thickly plush carpeting.

Once he was alone, Logan pulled the remains of his sheets from his body and tossed them into a pile beside the bed. He sat up, wincing at the tightness in his groin, and cursed softly under his breath.

He walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on in the upright shower, letting steam cloud the small space and obscure the mirror in haze before stripping off his sweat pants. Entering the stall, he let the hot water course over his body, hoping it would wash away the lingering aftereffects of his dream. He closed his eyes under the pounding jet of liquid, allowing it run into his open mouth, both hands braced against the cool tiles that lined the walls.

_What the hell's happening to me?_ He wondered, spitting out a mouthful of water. _First I lose it during that damned game of tag th' other night, now this..._

He reached for a bar of soap and began rubbing it in slow circles against his chest, lather forming almost instantly. The sudsy cake left trails of bubbles across skin until it finally moved to his lower regions.

When he encountered his stiff, still fully engorged shaft, he couldn't contain the hiss ofsurprise that escaped him, as a ripple of desire shuddered unbidden through his body at the contact. His soap-slick hand slid down its hard length unconsciously, thoughts of Jean instantly flooding into his mind, imagining that it was her deft ministrations that were bringing his blood to a boil, that the hot wetness surrounding him was her own.

In his head, the dream continued from where it had ended so abruptly.

Her naked, white thighs were now wrapped securely around his waist; the hand stroking him so surely became her tight sex clenching him within its virgin grip. The memory of her scent was all around him and the dancing streams of water transformed into fiery tendrils of hair that seemed to be touching him everywhere at once.

"Jeannie..." he rasped, breaths coming in ragged pants.

Several more strokes was all it took before his eyes squeezed shut - almost as if he were in pain, his teeth bit into his lower lip, and his body was racked by a series of jerking spasms.

Spent and shaking uncontrollably, he let his head rest against the soothing coolness of the blue and green tiles, the remaining soapsuds sluicing down his body to swirl at his feet. His dark eyes flickered open to stare at nothing, a shivery sigh escaping his lips, while the turmoil in his mind spun madly.

_What am I going to do?_

_

* * *

_"You can't tell me that you're, like, gonna back out _now_! You promised to take me to the mall later today to look for a dress!" Kitty cried, bright eyes dimmed by disappointment. 

Jean, sipping her orange juice, was aware that the entire table had gone silent at her announcement, all save for her young friend. Replacing the glass beside her empty plate, she shook her head. "Just because I've decided not to go to the Spring Formal doesn't mean I won't help you, Kitty. We'll still go dress shopping today," she said with a little smile. "I just won't be getting one for myself, that's all."

"But Ah thought you'd already told Duncan you'd be goin' with him?" Rogue asked, animosity towards the redhead forgotten as confusion took its place.

"I...well, I'll call him and cancel. The dance isn't for another week, he can find another date," Jean said, only momentarily reconsidering her decision. After all, she _had_ agreed to go with Duncan over a month ago. It seemed a little unfair to change her mind so close to the event and leave him hanging.

"Not likely..." muttered Scott from behind the newspaper.

Jean flashed him an irritated look. "Scott, Duncan is -" she began in a lecturing tone before Kitty interrupted.

"But _why_, Jean? We had everything planned and it's gonna be, like, the most amazing night of the school year! Everyone will be there, looking incredible and...and it won't feel the same without you!" she said between mouthfuls of Ororo's honey-cinnamon pancakes.

While she chewed the last forkful, Kurt took up her cause.

"C'mon, Jean! You know you want to go!" he said grabbing a startled Evan's hand. Pulling him up, Kurt began to dance an exaggerated tango, Evan following his lead with a laugh. "There'll be music...laughter," he said, twirling his blond partner. "And did we mention..._dancing_?"

Both his and Evan's eyes turned to stare at her in mock-seriousness before Kurt attempted a dip. Leaning over too far, the usually fuzzy German lost his balance and the two boys tumbled into a heap on the kitchen floor.

The girls all giggled and Scott managed a disgusted snort. Ororo, mixing another bowl of batter at the counter, watched their antics with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

Evan's head popped up to regard Jean from across the table.

"Aww, Jean, do you want to hear us all beg? This is more than just a dance, it's...it's..." he groped for the right words as he climbed back into his chair. "It's a..._team_ effort!" he finished triumphantly, reaching for another helping of pancakes.

Jean sighed, wishing they'd stop badgering her. Of course she wanted to go to the dance, wanted to dress up and have fun with her friends. But after the other night with Logan in the woods...

Her eyes sparkled as her mind replayed the details of their encounter for what seemed like the millionth time.

She couldn't go to the formal with Duncan, not when her heart was so firmly set on another. Not only did it feel like a betrayal in a strange sense, but the house would practically be empty that night.

A slow, hopeful smile curved her lips as she thought about the things she'd planned for that evening, things that involved her, Logan, and maybe another run around the estate.

_And with **no** interruption this time_, she promised silently, goosebumps raising along her arms as she shivered with expectation.

Her friends all started talking at once, each determined to be the one that changed her mind, when a damp-haired Logan strode into the kitchen looking more annoyed than usual. Jean sent him a dazzling smile when she saw him, but he chose to ignore it, instead turning to nod a curt greeting to Ororo. He grabbed a plate, speared some pancakes, and leaned back against the counter to eat, attention riveted on his food.

Jean felt a little crestfallen at his coldness, but determinedly pushed her hurt feelings aside.

_He's always irritable in the morning_, she assured herself, eyes glued to his every movement.

Logan, despite his earlier release, felt as edgy as a caged tiger as he wolfed down the lightly sweetened cakes Ororo had prepared. All he could smell was Jean's fragrance mixing temptingly with the aroma of cinnamon that hung heavy in the air, which served to agitate him further. He didn't want to look at her for fear his resolve would crumble, but he couldn't help noticing the noise coming from the group sitting around the table.

"What's with all the racket?" he bellowed, staring his students down with a face like a thunderhead.

Every mouth closed abruptly and all eyes turned to regard him warily, even Jean's.

"Umm...it's nothing, Logan. We -" Jean found her voice first - just hearing it made his heart stutter like a schoolboy's.

Kitty jumped up, once again interrupting.

"We're all, like, going to this totally _humongous_ dance next week, and Jean decided she doesn't want to go anymore, so we're trying to convince her. We were going to go shopping for dresses and shoes and everything!" she reported, her eager tone slipping into a petulant whine.

"Kitty! I said we could still go look at dresses!" Jean protested, face flushing.

Chewing his food, Logan turned his hardened gaze in her direction. "What's the matter, Red?" he asked, a nasty smirk on his handsome face. "Not able to cut it with th' guys?"

He saw her recoil from his malicious tone, shoulders drawing up in surprise. He disregarded her reaction, and the unfriendly glare from Ororo.

"Nah, Jean was asked over a month ago," Evan said, digging into yet another helping of food.

"_Yeah_, and only by tha' most _popular_ boy in school," Rogue added with something akin to pride. She normally didn't stick up for Jean, the person she seemed to be at odds with most, but something in Logan's tone had caused her hackles to rise defensively on the other girl's behalf.

Logan barely registered the anomaly as a flash of jealousy shot through him at the Rogue's words, seizing him quickly, violently, and without thought. Clenching his fist, he quickly took control of his wayward emotions and attempted to refocus himself.

"So if she's got it all figured out, then what's the problem?" he asked, lip curling disdainfully.

All eyes turned to Jean to await the reasoning behind her hasty decision. Under their combined scrutiny, she started twisting one of the silver rings she wore, looking at Logan questioningly as she did so.

"Why do _you_ think I should go?" she parried back at him.

"Because yer a _kid,_ an' _kids_ go to dances so that grown ups can have a night off from _babysittin_'. Not to mention how you'd be breaking what's-his-name's heart," he said, the word 'babysitting' coming out with a sneer.

Ororo gave him a withering look before rounding the table and placing a motherly hand on the girl's shoulder."Jean, pay him no mind. Not only do I think you would be cheating yourself of a wonderful time, but you would be disappointing your friends and the young man who is expecting to go with you," she said, leaning down to embrace her stricken charge. "What I cannot fathom is that you've been speaking of nothing else but this event these past few weeks.What could possibly have changed your mind?" the silver-haired woman asked, her cheek pressing comfortingly against the other girl's.

Logan met Jean's stare unflinchingly.

"I...I thought I had a reason," she started, wounded eyes watching Logan before shifting to look down at the tabletop. "I guess there never was one..." she murmured, suddenly breaking free from Ororo's arms and running from the room, leaving everyone to look after her, mouths' agape.

All except one.

Going back to his breakfast like nothing had happened, Logan ate mechanically, the food's flavour now replaced by the sour bitterness that flooded through him.

_It had to be done_, he told himself with all the conviction he could muster. _An' I'll keep on doing it until you see how crazy this whole situation is, Jeannie. Yer not old enough to know what you want from life yet. You can't be blamed fer what you think you feel..._

He snorted derisively.

_But me? I'm supposed t' be an adult, th' one who knows better, and what do I do? Encourage ya...draw ya in deeper...hurt ya..._

His eyes closed, shame overpowering every other emotion he currently felt.

He tossed his half-empty plate into the sink where it clattered noisily, drawing the attention of everyone still remaining in the room, before stalking angrily out the back door.

Pounding across the dew-dusted lawn, robins taking startled flight as his passing interrupted their search for food, he sought refuge in solitude from the black mood that was threatening to overtake him.

With one last glance at the house over his shoulder, he shook his head again.

_I'm sorry, Red...so sorry..._

_

* * *

_"Ooohh, Jean! What do you think of this one?" Kitty asked, holding a swath of powdery blue fabric against her chest. 

Glancing at the dress without seeing it, Jean nodded absently. "Sure Kitty. Why don't you try it on?" she suggested, glumly watching her friend charge off to find a change room.

They'd been at the mall for hours, and so far Rogue was the only one in possession of a gown for the formal, Kitty turning out to be surprisingly particular for someone so young. Both girls had tried enticing Jean to try certain things on, only to be met with distracted indifference, leaving them exasperated. The last two stores, they'd chosen to stop being so encouraging, instead channeling their enthusiasm into their own causes.

A small part of Jean felt bad for not being more supportive of her teammates, more grateful for their obvious concern, but she couldn't bother. Her head was simply too full of Logan for anything else to matter.

_What was his problem this morning? Did I say or do something that upset him?_ She wondered, his scathing words echoing through her mind every few seconds. She pondered each sentence, tone, every look and gesture from breakfast in an attempt to discover from where his displeasure with her stemmed.

Kitty emerged from the rear of the store, draped in soft folds of the palest blue, spinning around delightedly for Jean's perusal.

"Well?" she asked with a giggle.

Snapping out of her trance, Jean looked critically at the girl for a few seconds. She let a brief smile escape and nodded at her friend. "It's beautiful, Kitty. I think you've found your dress," she said, ready to go back to her thoughts, when an idea suddenly struck.

Kitty, squealing excitedly, was jumping around in front of a full-length mirror when Jean caught hold of her hand and her attention.

"Kitty," she began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Why do you think Logan was so...cranky this morning? Did he say anything out of the ordinary when you went to wake him up for breakfast?"

The younger brunette's face paled for only a fraction of a second before her usual sunny smile returned to beam full force. "Is _that_ what's been bothering you all afternoon? A charm-school reject's grumpiness?" she asked in a surprised tone, patting the hand that held hers.

A high-pitched titter escaped her, betraying her nervousness under Jean's intense stare.

"Jean, Ororo was, like, _so_ right when she told you not to listen to him. What does he know about anything besides fighting and being mean?" she offered, hoping it would appease the other girl.

Seeing the beseeching look in her friend's green eyes, Kitty sighed in defeat and turned away to regard her image again.

"When I knocked on his door, I heard him..." she paused, as if weighing her words. "...Calling out your name. I didn't ask him about it because I didn't want to pry. He did mention, though, that he'd been having a bad dream. Maybe whatever it was he dreamt upset him enough to take it out on you," she admitted.

She spun about quickly and gave Jean a deadly serious look.

"_Please_ don't tell him I told you. I didn't, like, let on I'd heard anything out of the ordinary and I think he'd be mad if he found out I did. Like it was an invasion of privacy of something."

Jean filled with hope at the girl's candor, suppressing it with difficulty as she gave her friend a warm smile. "Of course I won't, Kitty - I really appreciate that you could confide in me."

Kitty exhaled in relief at her words.

"It certainly helps put this morning into perspective," Jean mused quietly, a million ideas flooding her head at once.

Impatient to get home to research a nagging theory, she made an effort to quiet her excitement and continue helping her friends with their preparations for the dance, fully prepared to shop right along with them now that her mood had improved so greatly.

_I'll figure this out yet, s_he thought determinedly, reaching for a dress that had escaped her notice while she'd been buried in apathy.

_You won't get rid of me so easily, Logan, not without one hell of fight..._

_

* * *

_

The following week passed uneventfully for Jean, as she perfected her look for the formal and studied for the upcoming final exams. She'd stayed true to her word and not said anything to Logan about his dream, or much else for that matter as he'd been avoiding her religiously.

The day after the episode in the kitchen, after placing Kitty's revelation alongside all the other facts she'd gleaned from the various telepathic 'skims' she'd performed on him unawares, Jean felt like kicking herself for being so stupid.

He was scared of his growing feelings for her, trying to push her away in a vain attempt to deny the truth to himself. All those times he thought on their difference in ages and his position as her one of her instructors...he was using those concerns to build a wall around himself, shutting her out with the one weapon he had left; his hurtful, wounding, disdainful words.

_It was that dream he had that must have initiated the start of the barrier_, she thought, smoothing a wisp of hair back from her face. _Must have been...disturbing..._

She let out a triumphant little smile at the thought, fingertips pausing over the keyboard of her computer where she was typing up a report for a project.

A tiny frown replaced the smile as she pondered her next step.

It was Thursday, the night before the formal, and she had hoped to find a moment to speak to Logan in private, convinced that she could rectify the situation if she could just talk with him.

She glanced at the computer screen's clock. 8:37pm.

_If you're going to track him down, now's as good a time as ever_, a voice in her head prompted.

Saving her work, she switched the computer off, stood up to stretch, and began the hunt for her elusive prey.

The common room was full of students, watching t.v. and playing pool. After casting a quick glance around, she moved on, not spying Logan in the mix.

The corridor she fairly dashed down was dim, the only light coming from irregularly spaced antique hurricane lamps, fat, three-wick candles burning fitfully behind their glass chimneys. The massive door of the Professor's study loomed into view. Light peeked from underneath it and muted voices could be heard coming from beyond the thick, oak paneling. Jean placed her ear at the crack between the door and frame and tried to discern who was involved in the late night meeting.

_Professor Xavier, Ororo, and...Hank by the sounds of it, no Logan_. She huffed disappointedly.

Traipsing into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water, dejected yet strangely relieved. As much as she wanted to talk to Logan about their situation, something within her wanted to hold back.

She raised the water to her lips and took a deep swallow, idly looking out the small window over the sink, nearly choking in alarm when she saw a shadow moving around in the backyard. Wiping away drops of water from her chin, she set the glass down on the counter and made her way to the sliding doors that led outside, an icy calmness spreading through her body, leaving her numb.

"Courage..." she whispered, striding confidently towards the form that moved within the darkness.

* * *

Logan punched and kicked imaginary foes while his muscles burned and begged for rest. Long past recognizing any discomfort, he halted only long enough to wipe the perspiration from his eyes, breathing hard and heavy. 

He'd taken to practicing whenever he had a free moment, believing that exertion would sweat his impure thoughts from him like one would sweat out an illness, that exhaustion would deny his brain the energy it needed to produce any more dreams - erotic or otherwise.

So far, it hadn't been working as well as he'd hoped.

He quickly moved back into a fighting stance, performing a series of jumps and rolls, swipes and lunges, flowing from one step to another with the grace of a dancer, until he caught wind of Jean.

_Goddammit all...can't I get any peace?_ He swore inwardly, releasing his claws with an angry gesture.

He contemplated making a dash for the nearby trees to escape her, but shook his head resolutely.

_I don't run from anything, 'specially not some slip of a girl!_ His inner voice growled, claws sliding through the air with each swing of his arms as he continued with his exercises.

A second later, he felt her presence behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he waited for her to speak, hoping she'd take his silence at face value and go away.

It was wishful thinking.

"Logan?" he heard her call out, her tone one of uncertainty.

"What?" he asked, still refusing to look back at her.

"Can we...talk?"

Logan could tell she was nervous, could smell her hesitancy, her fear, overpowering her normal feminine scent. For some reason, that realization made him uneasy.

"Whaddaya want t' talk about?" he panted, pushing himself still harder.

He heard her shift, a slight rustling of clothing, before she answered.

"Us."

His heart stopped. For a millisecond, he couldn't breathe. His evenly timed slashes faltered as the first trickles of dread seeped into his veins.

_Stick with the program_, grated harshly in his head.

He took a ragged gasp of air, feeling his blood begin to pump once again, and resumed the combination punch-slice he'd been about to perform before she'd spoken.

"Us? What th' hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked, forcing a guttural laugh while his insides churned crazily.

"You know what I mean, Logan," she said gently, coming around to where she could see his face.

"I'm sure I don't," he retorted angrily as he felt his body's treacherous reaction to her nearness. "Why don't you enlighten me?" he sneered.

Logan watched as her eyes traveled to his bare chest, slick with sweat, before connecting again with his own. He shuddered as if her gaze had been an actual caress.

He halted his training and reached for a towel at his feet, wiping away the excess moisture that clung to his skin. Looking at her over the dark fabric as he rubbed it across his face, he tried to sound impatient.

"Well?"

Jean, arms crossed beneath her breasts, bit her lip before opening her mouth, no sound emerging when she did so. Her eyes closed once, as if searching for inner strength, and then opened to regard him, a recklessly bewildered light giving them an inner glow.

"I- I think I'm in love with you, Logan," was said so faintly, he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

The towel fell to the ground, forgotten, as he leaned towards her.

"W-what?" he asked incredulously, not positive he'd hear her even now as his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears.

Jean seemed to have gained added confidence from saying it the first time, and repeated, louder this time. "I think I'm in love with you."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, as if she'd spoken a foreign language, as he tried to absorb the meaning behind her words. He felt his face go slack with shock and his hands start to tremble. He took an involuntary step towards her.

_She - she said...she said..._

_Control_, he told himself. _It's all about control_.

_But she just **said**...I can't believe what she..._

_**Control, Logan. Focus.**_

He gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, stilling their shaking while molding his face into a mask of cold indifference.

"You don't know what yer talkin' about," he said with a scornful laugh, making an about-face and walking purposefully back to the house, leaving the towel where it lay and the redhead where she stood.

A cool evening breeze washed over his heated body, threading through the damp hair on his head and chest. He took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow to a more even pace, resolved not to look back at Jean.

Inwardly, he kept recycling all his reasons for doing what he was doing like a litany, trying to keep himself from examining his real reaction to her words, knowing that to do so would be disastrous.

_She said...she said...I can't believe, can't understand, it's not possible_, his mind muttered amidst all his other thoughts, distracting him from hearing the soft cadence of running footsteps behind.

* * *

Jean had waited for all of two seconds after he walked away before stooping down to retrieve his towel and taking off after his retreating form. 

_What have I done? Why did I say that? Where did those words even **come** from?_ She wondered frantically as she hurried after him.

True, it had felt good to finally say what she'd been wanting to tell him for what seemed like an eternity, but by the same token, she'd just left herself completely open.

Open, and terribly, hopelessly, vulnerable.

"Logan, wait!" she cried, knowing instinctively that there was more to his feelings than he was letting on.

He didn't stop at her voice, so when she caught up to him, she grabbed for his arm, only to be shaken off roughly. Taken aback but far from disheartened, Jean zipped in front of him and planted herself directly in his path. He halted and looked at her in irritation.

"I'm not finished," she stated, spreading her arms out when he tried to go around her. A menacing rumble came from his throat but he stayed put, impatience warring with tolerance on his face. "What you said was unfair," she continued, bringing her telepathic abilities to the forefront of her mind.

She didn't really want to use them on him, wanted his reaction to be a natural one, born of authentic desire. But if he maintained this stubborn, bull-headed attitude with her, she was prepared to slip in a suggestive image or two.

_After all_, she intoned silently, _all's fair in love and war..._

Logan hadn't responded, just quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"What you said - about not knowing what I was talking about? It wasn't justified. I may be young, but how does that exclude me from having feelings? At what age are you supposed to be able to love someone? Better yet, when was the first time you fell in love?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

She probed his mind quickly for his real response.

_...so many times, so many women over the years...none were like you, Red...**none** of 'em..._

She withdrew.

"None o' your business." His hand went up touch his forehead curiously, as if feeling something tickling his skin.

_Clumsy, girl, very clumsy_, Jean admonished herself, realizing that her withdrawing hadn't gone unnoticed.

"I know you have some feelings for me," she maintained.

"I do for _all _you kids - yer my responsibility, I look out fer ya, make sure you train hard and stay safe. There's nothin' beyond that, Red, whatever you may think."

"_Nothing_?" she scoffed indignantly. "Were you feeling 'nothing' when we sat together watching t.v. the other week? You had your arm around me, and at one point I thought you were going to -"

"It was a _mistake_!" Logan shouted, cutting her off, eyes flashing dangerously. Visibly taking hold of his anger, he lowered the volume. "It was a mistake," he repeated softly, eyes still hard as obsidian. "I was..._wrong..._very wrong. If I'd known that my actions would contribute to this - this...supposed _infatuation,_ then I wouldn't have done what I did."

Jean faltered as some of her assuredness slipped.

"What about our training session in the woods the other night?"

"Another mistake, one that'll never happen again," he vowed, pushing past her.

"Was that dream a mistake?" she blurted out in desperation, watching him walk away.

Recklessly, her consciousness touched his mind again to gauge his reaction.

At her voice, Logan had frozen on the stones of the patio. She could feel his shock, his anger, and more powerfully, his shame at the question. Afraid of losing him even now, she pressed the issue while moving towards him.

"Do you call out other student's names in your sleep?" A pace away, she saw him flinch.

"Jeannie..." His voice held a warning tone as she stepped beside him, his head bowed, body shaking.

"Some part of you must want me," she breathed near his ear, her anxiety making her brazen.

She let one of her hands brush against his naked shoulder, the tips of her manicured nails delicately tracing the ridges of muscles that quivered beneath her butterfly-light touch.

Even with her psi-link giving her access to his mind, she was unprepared for what he did next.

He jumped towards her, moving so fast she couldn't have avoided him if she'd tried. His hands darted out, grabbing her upper arms, fingers digging into her soft flesh like twin vices, catching her completely off guard. She gasped in surprise at the ferocity of his actions.

His eyes bored into hers, barely suppressed rage giving them an evil glow, as he gave her a shake.

"What do you want me to _say_?" he snarled, face an inch away from hers.

"Logan -" she tried, frightened as she felt his thought waves begin to spin erratically, taking a decidedly feral turn.

"How many times do I have t' tell you that yer _wrong_? That what's been goin' on ain't what you _think_ it is?" he asked in a brutal whisper, eyes slanting dangerously.

Jean watched his fury with wide eyes, tears beginning to well as the bite of his fingers became unbearable. His disjointed thoughts poured into her own, images fading into pure, pulsating colours that she couldn't understand.

_I've pushed him too far!_ She realized with a rising sense of panic.

For the first time ever, she found herself scared of Logan.

"Please, you're hurting me..." she said, trying to twist out of his grasp.

His hold only tightened before pulling her closer roughly.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU **_WANT_**?" he roared, crushing his mouth down on hers with bruising force.

Jean had dreamed of what his mouth would feel like on hers for months, anticipated its sweetness, the pleasing scratch of his stubble against her smooth skin, the emotions his touch would stir...

This was nothing like what she'd expected.

His teeth pressed painfully against her lips, his tongue forced its way past hers, making her gag reflexively. The speed of his assault had snapped her head back at an awkward angle, and her arms were tingling from his continued exertion, approaching numbness.

She stumbled backwards in an attempt to break free of his hold, succeeding only in losing her footing. She thought Logan would keep her upright but instead he pushed his advantage, following her momentum until they crashed to the ground heavily. A muffled cry escaped her as his body slammed into her smaller frame, a white flash of pain streaking her vision as the wind was knocked from her. Dazed, she felt his hands reach for her wrists, yanking her limp arms above her head where he held them down firmly. She gasped for air when his face lifted from hers and tested his iron hold; he was as strong as she had expected.

"Let me _go_!" she cried, her voice choked with tears.

Even without being able to see what he was doing, she could feel his legs straddling her slim hips, felt his groin resting intimately against her own. A moment later, her eyes widened in alarm.

She didn't need to read his mind his mind to know that he was extremely aroused - his erection was so obvious that it dug into her thigh uncomfortably.

What she did manage to glean from his turbulent thoughts left no doubt in her mind, though, that however promising this position would have seemed under other circumstances, she did not want to be in it right now.

Heat...fury...lust...rage...

They were primal, animalistic urges consuming him, screaming into her head and blanketing her senses like snow would the ground. She quickly severed her telepathic connection with him.

Just as she did so, his body shifted.

Transferring both of her wrists into the grip of one hand, he reached down with his free one and ripped open her shirt, buttons offering no resistance as they sailed off into the darkness. She heard him growl approvingly at the sight of her exposed skin, her lacy bra now the only barrier between her breasts and him. His fingers cupped a rounded globe through the fabric roughly, and she winced with discomfort at the treatment of her sensitive flesh.

"Please, Logan, get off of me..." she pleaded again, his hand now hooking under one of her knees.

If he heard her, he showed no sign, continuing to arrange her legs until both were bent around his waist.

"Let me _up_!" Jean ordered, struggling in earnest now.

_God, I wanted him so badly, but not like this...not like **this**!_

She twisted onto her side, freeing one of her hands in the process, only to have Logan throw his weight onto her again, capturing her wrist with a grip so powerful she wondered that she didn't hear her bones snap.

Her tear-streaked face was suddenly nose to nose with his, her spiky lashes brushing against his cheek when she blinked. She'd never seen his eyes so wild...

"_**This**_, _little girl, is what you said you_ _**wanted**,_" he rasped, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Wh-what are you _talking_ about? How could you think I would want..._t-this_?" she stammered in confused outrage.

"You wanted to know what part o' me wants ya, Red? Well _this_ is it," he said, pressing the bulge in the front of his loose-fitting training pants into her crotch. A cruel laugh followed his display. "You think you know what ya want, that you can handle me, that ya know what's really inside me..." He paused, shaking his head. "When th' truth of the matter is, seeing this side o' me, the _real_ me, has yer blood runnin' _cold_."

He sniffed the air.

"I can smell yer fear, Red..." he said, finally releasing her and standing up.

Jean rolled over onto her side, her useless arms crossing over her nearly bare chest, face burning with humiliation and a growing sense of despair.

"You're wrong," she said thickly, the new tears building making her throat throb.

Not able to look at him, her hair hanging like a heavy curtain across her face, she heard his footsteps as he walked away.

"Not this time, Red."

And then she was alone.


	5. Part Five

**RATED 'R'  
WARNING - PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!  
This chapter contains violent sexual situations and offensive language.  
If this isn't for you, please turn back now.**  
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters.  
A/N - takes place the day after Part Four.

* * *

The Awakening - Part Five 

Jean sat hunched at her window seat, green eyes unfocused, dark smudges beneath them proclaiming a sleepless night. Knees tucked under her chin, she stared at the golden glow that had appeared over the distant horizon a few minutes ago, barely realizing that morning had arrived.

The alarm clock beside her bed suddenly blared to life, breaking into her reverie.

Turning her head, she telekinetically pulled its plug from the socket, silencing the music that had erupted so jarringly. The small, red numbers blacked out, last reading 6:30 am. Her gaze returned to the outside world, watching the white streamers of mist as they stretched across the estate's grounds, the purple shadows under the trees beginning to give way to the dawn's new light.

Blinking wearily, she exhaled, feeling a tightness in her chest release as if she'd held her breath for hours.

She tried to stand, blood rushing back into legs that had gone numb, filling her lower half with a pins and needles sensation. Waiting for the tingles to pass, she walked over to the mirror at her vanity table, stiff muscles making themselves known with every step.

She peered at the sad creature within the reflective glass without recognition.

She still wore the clothes she'd had on the day before; khaki pants covered with grass stains, torn, button-less shirt, the lavender lace of her bra peeking from its folds. Her usually lustrous hair hung in tangles around her pale face, and faint streaks of dirt decorated her hands, elbows, and neck.

She bit her lip to quell its trembling as she raised a hand to her hair, attempting to smooth it back from her face, new tears collecting in the corner of her reddened eyes as she continued to regard herself.

Desolate...despairing...completely heartbroken...

She hurt like she never thought possible.

She bowed her head and hurriedly started to strip off her soiled garments, not able stand her own misery looking back at her anymore.

* * *

"Can you move any _slower_?" Pietro grated for the third time in as many minutes, foot tapping a rapid tattoo on the tiled change room floor. 

Lance, the object of his impatience, was pulling a dark t-shirt over his bare chest, face registering his irritation at his white-haired friend's tone. A scathing retort died unspoken on his lips as he watched Pietro's head slip past the lockers they were standing behind to look towards the door, an amused smirk taking its place.

"Maximoff, if you're that worried about running into the jock squad, by all means, take off. I'll catch up later," he said, bending over to tie a shoelace.

The young speedster's eyes darted back to his friend, anger flashing in their blue depths. "Worried?" he scoffed, instantly relaxing against the wall, arms crossing under his chest. "Like I'd waste any of my precious energy on _those_ assholes," he muttered, a hand raising languidly, fingertips smoothing over an arching eyebrow.

Lance gave a laugh, straightening up from his crouched position.

"Besides," the paler boy added. "I saw Matthews and his buddies headed for the parking lot before coming to meet up with you." He paused and glared at Lance. "Even lacking brain cells, they at least know how to take advantage of a half-day of school...unlike _someone_ I could mention!"

Lance began pulling on his black half-gloves, mouth opening to reply, when loud voices in the hall caught his attention. The door to the locker room swung open suddenly, immediately followed by a chorus of laughter.

"Hurry up, Steve, I don't wanna keep Jean waitin'."

Lance rolled his eyes silently.

It was Duncan and his lackey.

"So they already left, huh?" he asked, giving Pietro a nudge.

Not bothering to rush, he reached for his vest, absently listening to the conversation several rows of lockers over. By the way they were speaking, Lance knew that the two losers thought they were alone.

"...never thought I'd see the day you'd become some chick's lapdog," the voice belonging to Steve joked.

"_Lapdog_? Hah! I'd be insulted if it wasn't for the fact that you're insanely jealous that she's dating me and not you!" Duncan howled with mirth.

"Like I'd want to be with some girl that doesn't even put out," Steve retorted sullenly.

"You're behind the times, man. Haven't you heard? As of tonight, that sweet piece of ass is _all_ mine!" Duncan bragged.

Metal clanged as Steve's locker door shut.

"Yeah, like I'd believe _that_ shit. Miss Priss, getting it on with _you_! What are you smokin' buddy?"

"Trust me -I've got it all planned. A few of those little pills that Jeff picked up in New York slipped into one of her drinks, and WHAMO! She'll be putty in my hands!"

Duncan's laughter sent a chill up Lance's spine. He shot a look at Pietro, seeing the same look of surprise he knew his own face wore.

"Heh, Matthews, you are one sick fuck!" Steve laughed, his voice clearer as they approached the door.

"Well, it was Jeff's idea. After the number of times he scored during his vacation, he figured that he should 'share the wealth', so to speak," Duncan admitted.

"How much is he chargin' ya for this little transaction?"

"It was something outrageous, really, but the funny thing is that his price dropped considerably after I invited him to partake in the "flesh-tivities" once I get Jean out to the old service road."

"You're kidding, right? _Both_ of you? With _Jean_?" Steve's incredulous laughter echoed off the walls.

"Sure, why not? There'll be more than enough to go around - enough for three, if you get my drift. Why don't you meet us after the dance? We could all..." Duncan's voice faded as he and his friend stepped back out into the hall.

When the heavy wood of the door slammed shut, Lance let out a breath, rubbing his palm against his angular chin, dark eyes troubled.

"What-the-hell-was-_that_?" Pietro's words spilled out in a jumble, as he looked to the unofficial leader of the Brotherhood for clarity.

Lance shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure," he replied before straightening up and giving his comrade an easy smile. "But whatever that spoiled prick has planned for his little X-geek is no more than she probably deserves. It's not our problem," he said, leading the way out of the dimly lit room.

Pietro hesitated, face scrunched up in thought, before speeding after him. "A-are you _sure_? Shouldn't we at least tell someone...or something?" he asked in confusion.

The lanky boy ahead of him just shrugged his shoulders. "Why bother?"

* * *

Jean sat in the passenger seat of Duncan's little blue Porsche Boxster, eyes on the scenery that sped by in a blur, half listening to his conversation, as he drove her home from school. If he noticed her inattentiveness, he didn't make mention of it, just kept jabbering on about his plans for their evening, occasionally flipping through the songs on the CD that was blaring. 

She wished he'd turn it down; her head was killing her.

"...and then I'll pick you up. That sound okay to you, Jean?" he asked, casting a glance in her direction.

"Mmhmm..." she mumbled, a hand going up to massage her temple.

He didn't say anything further as his car whipped past the wrought iron gates of the mansion's driveway, pulling up in front of the main steps, and nearly running down some of the other students in the process.

"Oops! Sorry, Summers - didn't see you there!" He laughed at the look Scott shot at him, the car's bumper inches away from other boy's thigh.

"Like, learn to _drive_, you dork!" Kitty spat from behind Kurt.

Jean, her mood completely off, started to giggle at Duncan's mischievous visage, earning scathing glances from her teammates.

"Glad _someone_ finds it funny," Rogue muttered, following her friends into the house, none of them bothering to wait for her.

Duncan leaned back into his leather-tooled seat, white teeth bared in a huge smile directed at the redhead. "Me too," he chuckled, turning the knob on the stereo, lowering the music's volume considerably.

One of his hands moved to settle on her bare knee, while the other reached up the cup her cheek, slipping under her mass of shining hair.

Jean halted her laughter, not able to remember why she'd been doing so in the first place.

Duncan's hands felt overly warm on her cool skin, but she resisted the urge to pull away from his familiar touch. Something in her craved human contact. She let her head sink wearily into his palm, could feel its incongruous roughness against her silky flesh, fingers callused from the hard work demanded of an athlete of his caliber. Her eyes fluttered closed with a contented sigh.

"What's this?" the blond boy murmured, shifting closer to her. "Has someone been missing me?" he asked playfully, face dipping down to kiss her gently.

She let his mouth play over hers for a moment, enjoying the softness of his lips and the way his chin rubbed against her own.

She let herself imagine, for the space of a heartbeat, that it was Duncan that she loved and who loved her in return. She pretended that it was _his_ kisses that she craved, that stirred her, that made her blood run hot, that _his_ thumb, now brushing against her earlobe intimately, was the cause for her sudden shivers...

But a black figure looming in the back of her mind surged forth, sweeping away her daydreams like the ashes that they were, bringing with it the now ever-present hurt that caused her chest to constrict painfully, forcing her to pull away.

A flush infused her pale cheeks as she gave Duncan a wan smile, hand going to smooth her hair. She tried to ignore the way it trembled. "Sorry, it's just that, I'd...uhm...better go now. Have to start getting ready for tonight," she said by way of excusing herself, reaching down for her school bag.

Duncan, smiling easily, caught hold of her sleeve before she could fully exit the tiny car. "7:30," he reminded her, letting his hand stroke down her fingers. "Be beautiful for me, babe," he murmured, giving her a significant look.

Jean was sure she should feel insulted by his words, but didn't seem to have the emotional energy to spare. Instead, she forced another smile that didn't touch her eyes, and walked away from his car. Behind her, the music swelled once again to deafening proportions, and his engine revved as he sped towards the street, leaving her standing on the steps of the Institute.

Finally alone for the first time that day, she wearily let her book bag drop to the ground and perched on the edge of stone porch, letting her head fall back to absorb the golden sunshine that streamed down from a nearly cloudless blue sky.

She felt like shit.

For the first time in her life, she wished she had a cigarette.

Or a bottle of hard liquor.

Anything that would take her mind off the haunting images from the previous evening; they ran like an unending movie reel in her head.

Her fingernails dug into her arms almost convulsively as a silent, dry sob wracked her body.

It had been hell pretending that nothing was wrong at breakfast, that life was as hunky-dory as ever during her English presentation, showing her friends a happy face while inside a secret poison burned like acid in her belly.

And she had to keep the façade in place, at least for another night.

For the Spring Formal.

After that, she could let herself fall into the millions of pieces she knew were being held together with the small amount of strength she had left.

Opening her eyes to the dazzling sunlight, she wondered why she was still going to the dance, why she hadn't just told Duncan she didn't want to go anymore, she was sick, she was dying, she was dead...

She let a small, rueful laugh escape. After all, it wasn't far from the truth.

_Logan would be ecstatic to see how effective his words have been, how low they've brought me_, she thought to herself, head lolling on her shoulder.

She remained standing for another couple of minutes before retrieving her bag and slinging it over her arm, while bright, white hot spots danced in her field of vision. Blinking to clear her sun-blinded sight, she made her way to the entry, sighing forlornly as she disappeared into the cool, dark house. Seeing various members of the household moving around within, she formed her face into a careful mask of smiling unconcern.

_It's show time again..._

_

* * *

_

"_Kitty!_ Would ya _stop_ phasin' inta tha bathroom while Ahm _in_ it!" Rogue shrieked, the sound of something hitting the door with force following her cry.

A wide-eyed Kitty suddenly appeared from within the wall, a pretty floral dressing gown swishing around her ankles and her heavy chestnut hair, now in tight, crisp curls, pinned atop her head with a multitude of tiny, sparkling bodkins.

"Yeeesh! Like, _sorry,_ Rogue! I needed my nail polish!" Kitty hollered back, passing Kurt and Evan as she walked back to her room. "And it's not like you've got anything I haven't seen before already! Like, we're _both_ girls," she muttered, disappearing as she strode through her door.

Kurt's eyes bugged at the girl's almost inaudible comment before giving Evan a look, his eyebrows arching suggestively. Evan was in the process of pretending to fan himself as both boys started to laugh.

"Okay, that's enough perversion for one day. Let's move it along, shall we?" Jean said as she watched the two from the threshold of her room, arms across her chest, stern look warring with the smile that hovered over her lips.

"Hey! Our thoughts are private!" Evan cried, ineffectively slapping his hands over his ears as if to keep the telepath from accessing his mind that way.

Jean feigned surprise. "Who said anything about reading thoughts? All I had to do was look at you to know what your dirty minds were thinking." She laughed at their guilty expressions. "Besides, shouldn't you both be getting ready?" she asked, make-up bag in her hand, pale blue robe belted around her slim waist.

Kurt shot her a scornful glance, looking down at his watch. "It's only 6:45! The dance isn't until 8:00. What do you think we are - girls?" he laughed, ducking Jean's playful swat with ease.

He and Evan beat a hasty retreat down the hall, giggling much like a couple of naughty little boys, as Jean made her way to the bathroom. Before she could knock, Rogue emerged.

The other girl's hair had been slicked back into a tight chignon, her powdered face shone with an unearthly alabaster whiteness, and black kohl rimmed her dark green eyes. She had donned a black lace dress with a low neck and long, trailing sleeves.A violet shimmer revealed the satin sheath slip peeping out from beneath the garment's intricate design.

Jean stepped back to regard her teammate, giving her a wide, appreciative smile. "You look amazing, Rogue!" she exclaimed, earning a contemptuous glare.

"Whatever," Rogue replied testily, either believing the redhead's words insincere, or still smarting over Jean's apparent disregard for her friends due to her earlier display with Duncan.

Jean moved out of her way as the other girl pushed past. Sighing, she entered the bathroom and continued with her preparations.

She unwound the curlers that had been in her hair for several hours, watching as fat, lazy coils began to appear as she did so. She twisted several portions of her thick tresses into a half-knot and secured them with jeweled combs behind her head, allowing several strands to escape and frame her face enticingly. The rest of her hair she left hanging down her back like a mass of living flames.

After she'd applied her make-up and was satisfied with her appearance, she went back to her room to dress, pulling an elaborate creation from her closet.

She couldn't help but give a tiny smile of delight at the sight of it.

It was a sleeveless, empire-waisted gown of varying shades of gossamer rose tulle with a thin line of golden ribbon running underneath the bodice. Her many layered skirts were sheer and delicate, giving the impression that they fairly floated above the ground when worn. She slipped it on, using her teke to fasten the catches in the back, the small, yet intricate task causing beads of sweat to pop along her forehead by the time she was done. Jean then cast a glance at the full-length mirror to view the final results.

She was not disappointed.

A true smile stretched her lips, feeling alien after such a difficult day, as she turned sideways to check herself from all angles. Pausing long enough to pull several items from her jewelry box, she gave her reflection a wistful look.

"If only Logan could see you now..." she whispered, slipping an earring into her pierced lobe.

Jean suddenly realized that she hadn't actually seen Logan since coming home from her half day of school, just past noon. She assumed that he'd take to avoiding her after their encounter, but unless he'd spent his entire day locked in his room, she should have at least seen him in passing...

She shook her head resolutely.

"Forget him, shut him out, until tomorrow anyway," she told herself sternly.

"He doesn't exist tonight."

* * *

Logan, seated on the edge of his bed, was in the process of pulling on his steel-tipped cowboy boots, preparing for a night out of his own. His freshly washed hair lay against the collar of his leather jacket, some of the lingering moisture seeping down to dampen the neck of his customary black t-shirt. 

Boots in place, he tugged his jeans back down his legs and stood up, checking only that he carried his wallet and keys to his bike. Nodding to himself when he felt their shapes within the pocket of his coat, he exited his room, where, incidentally, he'd almost spent his whole day, hoping to avoid a certain redhead.

He stalked down the hall, quickly looking around for any of the students, and seeing none, bounded down the stairs.

He had no intention of discussing his plans with anyone if he could help it. He simply wasn't in the mood for interaction.

He started to pull open the front door.

"Tonight'll just be me, a game o' pool, a coupla' beers, an' later, maybe -" He stopped.

Standing just outside, about to knock, was some young, blond kid. The boy's eyes widened momentarily at the sudden appearance of a feral-looking Logan, before smoothing back into a look of smug confidence.

"Yer not one of ours," growled Logan, instantly disliking the good-looking youth.

_Somethin' about th' smell he's givin' off..._ He thought to himself, blocking the other's way into the foyer.

"No, I'm Duncan Matthews. I'm here for my date," the boy announced, shaking his golden locks as if Logan should be impressed.

Logan glanced down at the expensive tux the boy was wearing and moved aside to let him enter. "I'll bet you are," the older man replied, about to make his own retreat. He halted, though, when he realized that someone would have to keep an eye on the kid until one of the other members of the household materialized to take care of him.

Logan fought the urge to let out a string of curses that probably would have blanched the boy's tanned face at hearing them. Instead he forced himself to ask, "Which one are ya here for?"

Duncan shot him an offended look as if to say 'which one do you think?', but before he could answer, a voice came from the top of the staircase.

"Duncan! You're here early!" Jean exclaimed, drawing Logan's attention.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself staring dumbly at the radiant, beautiful creature above him on the landing, unable to look away despite his best intentions.

Images of the past evening and subsequent morning hours flooded his head, images he had worked diligently at repressing through meditation, images that came forth obediently as if the sight of Jean summoned them, towing a myriad of feelings along with them.

Feelings he had no interest in dealing with...hence his self-imposed isolation.

He had agonized over what had gone on between them the other night - agonized and raged, at her insistence, her honesty, her thoughtlessness, but most of all, his reaction. A sensation far stronger than shame, more intense than regret, had taken hold of his vital organs after the ordeal, and simply twisted them, causing his entire being to ache with remorsefulness.

He had never experienced anything like it before.

During the dark hours that had followed, he had gone over every detail of their encounter, wondering why she had said what she'd said. Wondering why he had done what he'd done. He had eventually come to the realization that despite the ferocity of his actions, his response had been the correct one. Had he been able to go back and deal with it all over again, he knew the outcome would have been the same in essence.

Jean was far too young and naïve, she needed to understand that he was very different in real life compared to how she pictured him in her fluffy daydreams. She had to stop hounding him, stop inciting his fully undisciplined, treacherously male body to the heated levels she continually brought him to.

_But you could've let her down gently, without going to extremes, without frightenin' her, damaging her trust, yer friendship, her heart..._

He had laughed to himself after thinking that as he lay in bed, at the fact that the very thing he'd sought to avoid - hurting her - had been exactly what he'd done by losing control.

He felt that selfsame laughter rising in his throat.

He came back to himself, seeing for the first time the cold, uneasy gaze Jean had leveled at him, obviously surprised to see him.

Duncan broke through the uncomfortable silence by whistling low in frank admiration.

"You look great, babe!" he said with a wide grin as Jean made her way carefully down the stairs, her skirts held daintily above her slim ankles with one hand.

Logan didn't linger overlong on her legs as she made her approach. His eyes traveled up the length of her body, stopping when they caught sight of her breasts - looking like a pair of rounded globes of nearly translucent flesh, pressed up by some design of her dress so that they peeped almost indecently above the fabric of her bodice.

He felt his mouth go dry as he inhaled the first wave of her scent; the sweet musk of her perfume, her clean hair, even the faint trace of lavender that he knew she must use to freshen the drawers where she kept undergarments - all combined into a fragrance that was uniquely her own, one of sensuality and of warning all in one.

His eyes snapped away suddenly when they met hers, not able to stand the obvious pain in their green depths, or miss the dark, yet faint smudges of a night spent without sleep that she'd almost completely concealed with make-up.

Guilt welled up inside anew.

"You're early," Jean repeated, turning to her friend, ignoring Logan.

"Yeah, sorry. I figured you'd be ready by now so I didn't see a point waiting around at my place. My parents drive me crazy with their camera," Duncan replied, jingling his car keys, obviously impatient to be on his way.

"Okay, just let me grab my purse," the redhead said, heading back up the stairs, leaving both men alone once again.

Duncan watched her retreating form, his tongue absently playing along his lower lip, unaware that Logan's eyes were staring holes through the boy's face.

"So, uh...is that your bike out front, Mr...?" Duncan asked, not looking at Logan, obviously trying to be conversational.

"It's Logan, and yeah, the bike's mine," he snapped, not liking the vibes the kid was giving off.

_He smells like a fucking dog in heat,_ Logan's inner voice snarled.

He felt his hands flex experimentally before Jean reappeared, a tiny, beaded butterfly clutch held in one hand.

Logan stepped away from Duncan as she approached, once again entranced by the way the lights reflected off of her jewelry, her shimmering hair, her bright eyes...

"Let's go," she said, flashing her date a dazzling smile.

The devilish grin the blond threw back at her had Logan's hackles up in an instant.

"What time you gonna be home, Jeannie?" he asked, trying his best to sound parental.

Jean, arm linked through Duncan's, froze at the sound of her pet name.

The black-clad boy at her side spoke before she could.

"I wouldn't wait up for her if I were you, Mr. Logan," he said, leering at Jean beneath slanting eyebrows.

"Don't worry, Duncan, he had no intention of doing so," the redhead said in reply, turning to watch Logan's face. "Did you, _Mr_. Logan?" she taunted lightly.

With those words, she swept through the double doors of the entry, leaving Logan with a final sight of swishing pink skirts, his glare still blazing full force.

Shaking his head angrily, trying to ignore the heated waves of jealousy and distrust that swelled within his chest, he headed for the side entrance, not wanting to run into the pair as they departed. As he stomped across the driveway, he saw the setting sun gleam off the tail end of Duncan's car as it vanished down the street.

Muttering a curse, he hopped on his bike, revving it with more strength than usual. The fierce growl that came from the engine mirrored his own, strangely satisfying to his ears, as he maneuvered his ride to face away from the garage.

With a roar, the bike sped off, Logan clutching the handlebars with white knuckles.

As the wind of the open road began sweeping past him, drawing his hair back from his glittering eyes, his mind became calm. He was able to quell the angry emotions that had started to stir at seeing Jean, able to think clearly.

_Forget her, shut her out, until tomorrow anyway_, his brain urged.

_Tonight she doesn't exist._

_

* * *

_  
"This is _our_ gym?" Todd breathed in childlike wonder, gazing goggle eyed at the beautifully decorated room. 

"Isn't it amazing how some crepe paper and glitter glue can improve even the ugliest of spaces? Martha Stewart would be envious," Pietro quipped mockingly, not quite as impressed as his younger compatriot.

Lance looked around with a slightly less cynical attitude, though, taking in the soft lighting, the dense pockets of sparkly balloons, and the hundreds of glitter-covered paper stars that dangled from the ceiling. A slow smile spread across his features.

The gym looked good, he admitted silently. Great, even.

"Who cares about how it _looks_? Where's all the _food_?" Fred griped, tugging awkwardly at the suit Pietro had worked diligently at preparing for him.

Lance glanced down at his own 'borrowed' tux, running his fingers over the rich material lovingly. He'd never worn one before tonight, and he and the other members of the Brotherhood had Pietro's skill at thievery to thank for what they were wearing, even Fred, though his had taken far more creativity.

Nothing Pietro had brought back would fit the massive boy, so their closet-seamstress (as his teammates had begun calling him) took to pulling each piece of rejected clothing apart until they had enough fabric to make a suit that was custom-sized.

And now, as Lance looked to each of his friends, newly bathed, groomed, decked out in what Bayville's finest shops had to offer, he felt a surge of pride sweep through his entire body. _Let someone try to say that we're not good enough now_, he thought, casting his eyes to either side of where the group was standing as if attempting to intercept any such individuals.

Seeing only a few students, none of them having noticed the boys who had just arrived, he relaxed and motioned for his friends to follow him to one of the nicely laid out tables. Fred paid him no mind, making a beeline for a trestle table loaded with all sorts of munchies instead, a blissful expression on his big face.

Lance sighed and plucked at Todd's sleeve. "Go with him, will ya? Make sure he doesn't eat everything in sight - and remind him that if he eats it all now, there won't be any left for later, got it?" he ordered.

Todd nodded, giving Lance a determined look, and went after Fred, trying his best not to hop in his haste.

"I really don't know why you bother," Pietro said in a bored tone, casually flicking away an imaginary piece of lint from the front of his jacket.

"With what?" the dark-haired boy asked, eyes still on Todd as he was vainly tugging at Fred's arm to keep him away from the treats.

"With _this_ - all of this! Playing dress-up, telling us to keep our powers under wraps for the night, attempting to stop the Blob from doing what he does best - all for what? A night of _normalcy_?" he sneered, sitting down on the nearest chair. "Sometimes I wonder if you have a little bit of X-geek in you, you know," Pietro mused softly, eyes speculative.

Lance took the chair opposite him, not able to meet the other boy's weighing gaze. "Why? Just because I wanted to go to a dance? Spend the night with my friends? Look the part? Have one evening without worrying about the bills that've been piling up while staring at the walls of that pit we call a house?" A laugh escaped him as he glanced Pietro's way."I don't consider any of my reasons remotely 'X-geeky', or find them stemming from a need to be 'normal'. I just...wanted a break...from...uhm..." His words trailed off as he raised his head, looking past Pietro.

Pietro saw Lance's eyes widen, taking on a glassy sheen, before he stumbled up from his seat without another word, and started walking like a puppet towards the gym's main doors. The speediest member of the Brotherhood swiveled in his chair to see what had so transfixed his friend, and couldn't suppress the contemptuous smile that flared when he did. Turning back to stare at the candle that served as the table's centerpiece, he studied the sinuous movement of the flame idly.

"You're right, Lance," he murmured, letting a hand reach out to play within the orange glow. "Your reasons for coming tonight are your own, they have nothing to do with my assumptions..."

He gazed over his shoulder again, shaking his head at the sight that greeted him - one of Lance watching a slender girl with avid interest,though from a distance, as if hesitant to approach.

"And everything to do with a certain little _kitty_..."

* * *

Jean, arm linked through Duncan's, swept into the gym to find the dance just beginning. 

The music had started to play, loud and energetic, a disco ball showering the floor with whirling trails of light, but couples were still hovering around the edges of the dance area as if afraid to start the party.

Despite all the bad feelings that were still plaguing her, Jean couldn't help but feel her body start to tremble excitedly at the sound of the beat, an itch that wouldn't subside until she got out on the polished hardwood floor and danced.

Duncan had other ideas, though, as he led her to a group of tables populated by their mutual friends.

A round of hugging and gown admiring ensued, followed by having to take the spots saved for them by Steve and his date, Taryn, at the head of the main table. All the while, Jean gazed longingly towards where some of the more adventurous students were now swaying to the music.

Already bored with the conversations that had sprouted up around her and the group's self-professed King, Jean contented herself with letting her eyes rove over the variously dressed people, interested in seeing the changes that more glamorous clothing could bring to an everyday face.

Suddenly spying her friends from the Institute, she excused herself from the current sports-related discussion, and made her way over to them, Duncan not paying her any attention as she left. Rolling her eyes after she escaped from his side, she found herself smiling once again as she approached the tables her teammates were occupying.

"Hi guys! You all look wonderful!" she exclaimed, trying to be heard over the music.

Scott, Kurt, and Evan, all in similar suits with elegant jewel-toned ties matching each of their differently coloured shirts, greeted her curtly. Rogue, now wearing her customary Doc Martins with her dress, polished so that they shined with reflected candlelight, stared right through her.

Peeved, Jean's mouth formed a little moue, beginning to feel slightly irate at their coldness, which seemed to have now infected Kurt and Evan.

_All I did was laugh at stupid Duncan's moronic prank. There's no reason for them to be so hostile..._

"Where's Kitty?" she asked after an awkward silence descended, making her wish for once that she had stayed with her annoying date.

At the mention of the other girl's name, everyone shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Over there," Kurt said dejectedly, pointing to a table at the opposite end of the massive room.

Jean spun around and saw Kitty sitting with a group of boys that seemed vaguely familiar...

She gasped in surprise, a hand flying to her mouth.

_It's the Brotherhood!_ She realized, knowing there was no mistaking the girth of Fred Dukes. _But they look...different. Almost...respectable._

She turned back to her team, noting the malicious stares directed at the Brotherhood table.

_Ahh, so they're not miffed completely with me. Part of it has to do with Kitty slumming with Alvers and his cronies_, she mused silently.

"What's she doing sitting with them?" she asked, curious.

Kurt moaned and put his head in his hands, Evan patting him consolingly on the back.

"Who knows? Maybe she wants tah have a miserable time tonight," Rogue offered snarkily, fingernails tapping on the table in irritation.

"All I know is that she ditched her two studly dates for a bunch of lowlifes!" Kurt's muffled voice cried out, Evan glaring at the offending party on his friend's behalf.

Jean felt bad for Kurt, knowing he'd looked forward to spending the night with Kitty ever since he'd asked her to go with him and Evan. She couldn't believe the other girl would be so unthinking of his feeling - not intentionally, at any rate.

Intrigued, she bid her friends farewell. "I'm going over to make sure she's okay. See you guys later."

As she approached the Brotherhood table, she could see Kitty laughing, surrounded by the four boys who looked equally amused. All five heads turned as one as the telepath came to stand next to the group.

Smiling indulgently at the friend she sometimes regarded as a little sister, Jean was amazed at how grown up she looked tonight. The dress they had picked out together accentuated her willowy body, brought out the colour in her sparkling blue eyes, and showed off her more womanly attributes. All in all, she looked lovely.

The smaller brunette jumped up from her seat excitedly, grabbing Jean's hands in her own, and proceeded to lavish praise on the redhead's appearance.

"Oooh, Jean!" Kitty breathed. "You look gorgeous! I'm so glad you decided to come tonight!" She gestured to their all-male audience. "You know Lance and his friends. The others were unbelievably rude about me, like, coming over to see them, but you don't mind, do you?" she gushed, her words coming out in an exuberant jumble.

"No, Kitty, this is as much your night as anyone else's," Jean agreed, leaning in close to whisper. "But you shouldn't neglect your _other_ dates for too long. There's enough time to spend with everyone, okay?" she finished, hugging Kitty close.

The younger girl gave Jean a guilty smile when they pulled apart, darting a look over to their teammate's table. Then all at once she was giddy again, dragging another chair over from a vacant table and placing it alongside hers, between Lance and Pietro.

"Sit! Sit! Sit!" she ordered, plopping into the one closest to Lance.

Not quite comfortable, but wanting to please her friend, Jean did as she was bidden, gingerly slipping in beside Quicksilver.

_At least they all look as wary as I feel_, Jean thought as she looked around at the boys, each face meeting hers fleetingly.

"Lance, Pietro, Fred, Todd, say hi to Jean," Kitty giggled, ignoring the sea of strained faces, taking a sip from a bottle of water, perfectly at ease.

The boys, to their credit, all murmured polite 'hellos', Pietro nodding a greeting in her direction.

Jean replied in kind, studying their suits. "You all look really nice," she said simply, not sure of what else to say.

"Thanks, yo...so do you," Todd mumbled, suffering from the same affliction of wordlessness.

Silence.

"So...where's Duncan? I'm surprised he let you out his sight, looking as scrumptious as you do!" Kitty commented slyly, attempting to fill the quiet void, giving Jean's ribs a nudge.

About to reply, Jean noticed Lance look up sharply at the mention of her date's name, meeting Pietro's eyes as if sharing some secret thought. Thinking them concerned about Duncan coming over and harassing them, Jean quickly shook her head.

"Don't worry, he's sitting with the football team. He won't bother wondering where I am - he's too busy discussing sports tactics and other things of interest common to cretins," she said reassuringly, rolling her eyes once again for added effect.

Kitty, Fred, and Todd laughed at her remarks, Pietro shook his head in Duncan's general direction, but Lance merely looked at her curiously.

"Why do you bother with that dumb jock if he's so irritating?" the dark boy asked, earning him a glare from Kitty.

Jean, taken aback by the question, straightened indignantly in her chair, fingers going absently to toy with the tablecloth. "I don't think that's any of your business. I date Duncan because I want to," she answered, sounding unconvincing even to her own ears. "Besides," she broke into a smile, trying her best to be diplomatic. "He's not _that_ bad, just a little too obsessed with sports."

"Among other things." Pietro's voice floated up from her other side, almost unheard beneath the blaring music.

Jean looked at him, brows drawn together crossly, about to ask him what his problem was, when Kitty slid herself into the conversation.

"Okay, like I think we've heard enough about our school's shining football star for one evening. It's time for some exercise!" she said, head swiveling to face Lance, then Jean, eyes beaming with energy.

"You go, Kitty. I'd better get back to Duncan. Eventually he _will_ come to look for me and I don't want him to ruin anyone's evening," Jean replied, standing up suddenly, smoothing out her dress.

"No! You have to dance too! Lance, you're coming with me, and since your date is occupied Jean, Todd, Pietro, or Fred can partner you!" she exclaimed, looking at each boy in turn.

No one answered.

"Well? Which one of you wants to dance with Jean?" Kitty demanded, watching as one, then two red faces looked away in embarrassment, leaving Pietro's cool demeanor regarding her with an arrogant half smile.

Jean felt her own face flushing, not knowing how to extricate herself from the situation gracefully now that Kitty had offered her up to all takers.

What was the girl thinking? Jean wondered furiously. Why would she want to dance with one of the Brotherhood? They may have spruced up for the night, but that didn't mean -

"Fine," Pietro agreed with a heavy sigh, startling Jean from her thoughts.

She stepped back from the silver-haired boy slightly, eyes wide with surprise, as he rose to his feet fluidly.

"Since these other two aren't up to the task," he said, indicating a terrified Todd and awe-stricken Fred with a jabbing thumb. "I'll dance with the dreaded enemy." He leaned in close to Jean, who was still stunned at the idea of dancing with him, and gave her a challenging look."You _can_ dance, can't you?" he asked, meeting her rounded green eyes with his calculating icy blue ones.

In the midst of their interaction, Kitty jumped up and down delightedly at seeing her friends paired amicably, and dragged Lance into the midst of the sweating throng of students already taking advantage of the music.

Distracted by her departure, Jean turned back to Pietro in time to see him reach for her hand.

"Of course I can!" she sniffed, letting him lead her after Lance and Kitty.

"Oh, sorry _Red_, I forgot...you're _perfect_, aren't you?" the boy sneered, giving her a slightly contemptuous look. "Just try to keep up with me," he muttered, finding them a spot and immediately beginning to move to the rhythm.

Jean stood there for a moment, looking around helplessly for a way to escape, before a little light came on inside her head.

This was probably the only fun she was going to have tonight. Duncan wasn't going to stir from his legions of adoring fans - he never did at school functions - and aside from asking one of her housemates to pair up with her (which she always ended up doing) no one else was going to bother with her.

One simply did not ask "Mr. Grid Iron's" date for a dance.

So she decided to make the best of the situation, sliding easily into several steps so that she matched Pietro's pace.

He looked up from the contemplation of his own feet and for the first time ever, gave her a real smile, free of hidden undertones.

And for once, she found herself smiling back.

Her partner laughed and grabbed her arm to pull her into another version of the steps they were dancing, dropping her into a dip.

Letting herself go with wild abandon, she followed his lead, feeling a lightness begin to overtake her, banishing all the depressing thoughts she continued to harbor.

_To hell with Logan **and **Duncan_, she thought with uncharacteristic vehemence, grinning as Pietro spun her, her skirts twirling softly around her legs.

_I'm going to have fun, even if it means having to hang with the Brotherhood..._

_

* * *

_

Over an hour later, Jean, now breathless from continual exertion, ran back to the boy's table to have a quick drink of her water, Lance trailing after her. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Avalanche moved past her to flop unceremoniously into his chair, breathing heavily.

"Man! Aren't you tired _yet_?" he asked in exasperation, having partnered her for the last song.

Pietro and Todd, resting from previous dances between her and Kitty, snickered at seeing Lance unable to keep up with a girl.

Still drinking, Jean gave the boy a look, shaking her head in the negative, amusement conveyed in that one glance.

Her cheeks, throat, and breasts were flushed a rosy hue, and her hair had begun to escape their confining combs to curl willfully around her face, slightly damp from perspiration.

Kitty suddenly appeared, towing a lumbering Fred behind her.

"That song was, like, so great! I wish they'd play it again!" she said, looking as delightfully unkempt as her redheaded friend.

Jean giggled, putting the empty water bottle back onto the table.

"Me too!" she agreed, grabbing Kitty's hand in her own and swinging their arms together like a little girl might have.

Jean was in heaven. She couldn't believe the way her blood seemed to hum through her veins - hot and charged, like rushing fire. It made her feel frivolous and carefree and wonderful, like none of her problems could intrude and spoil her evening.

The group lingered around the table for a few minutes longer, catching their breath, until the tempo of the music slowed behind them. The lights dimmed slightly, and a love song began to croon over the speakers that had been placed all around the gym.

Kitty gazed at Lance pleadingly. "Oh, 'Wicked Game'! Please Lance, you can't be _that_ tired yet! We still have hours of dancing left! C'mon!" she cajoled, pulling him from his seat.

Lance unbuttoned his jacket and draped it over the chair back before obediently following his crush onto the now packed dance floor, leaving Jean to pick her next partner.

Finger placed alongside her full lips, she contemplated which boy to select next.

Todd looked embarrassed again, Pietro looked indifferent, and Fred...well, Fred had a hangdog expression on his chubby face, not having danced with her yet.

A small smile appeared as she made her decision and reached over to grab Fred's overly large hand with her own.

"You wanna...?" Jean asked as he glanced up, her head leaning towards the other swaying couples.

His eyes went as wide as dinner plates as he nodded his agreement.

They threaded their way between other dancers and upon finding a spot, Jean faced the towering boy and pulled his arms into the proper frame for slow dancing. She showed him the steps and, after another few moments of nervousness, he was moving as elegantly as one of his size could. He beamed joyfully at her before looking down to ensure he wouldn't step on her smaller feet. Jean only smiled again and shook her head at his unnecessary concern.

She looked around her at all the other students, and caught sight of Kitty snuggled in close to Lance's chest. Her eyes were closed, a dreamy smile adorned her pretty face, as they moved in the traditional circles known as the 'high school slow-dance'. Jean raised her gaze slightly, and found Lance's eyes on her.

She wondered why he was staring at her so intently, until his look softened, and the hint of a smile came over his features. He nodded at her and then jerked his chin towards Fred meaningfully, before giving her a satisfied wink and gripping Kitty tighter in his embrace.

A warm feeling stole through Jean's body at the boy's gestures.

_He's grateful that I'm being nice to Fred, that I'm dancing with him_...she thought in quick realization. _Well, aside from that initial 'incident' when he first came to Bayville, he doesn't seem like such a bad guy_, she thought to herself, seeing how intently his face was screwed up as he tried to move as gently with her as possible.

_After spending so much time with them tonight, none of them do..._

A minute later, the music died down and another, more upbeat tune took its place.

Fred's giant hands released hers, and he gave her a shy smile.

"Thanks for the lovely dance, Fred," Jean praised the boy warmly as Kitty and Lance moved over to join them, the other girl's face still starry-eyed.

"Jean! _There_ you are! What the hell are you doing out here with this - this - _lardass_?" a voice suddenly brayed, followed by coarse laughter.

Jean didn't have to look behind her to know that Duncan and several members of his group had finally arrived on the floor. All she had to do was read the identical scowls on Lance and Fred's faces, Kitty looking past her friend's shoulder in distaste.

Her arm was grasped roughly and she found herself spun around, inches away from Duncan's snide visage.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, and here you are, hanging out with a bunch of rejects!" he laughed, pulling her into his arms while giving the two boys a sneer.

"We were just dancing - not like you'd care," Jean retorted huffily, pressing both hands against his chest in an attempt to squirm out of his grip.

"You've had enough dancing for a while. Come back to the table," he said patronizingly.

Without waiting for her to answer, he dragged her by the wrist so that she stumbled after him, not able to see the venomous glares directed at her date from the trio she left behind.

"What an absolute _dick_!" Kitty grated, causing Lance to look at her in shock at her choice of language. "Well he_ is_!" she said defiantly as the two headed back to their table, while a dejected Freddy took another trip to the buffet.

Todd jumped up when Kitty asked him to take his turn as her partner, leaving Lance and Pietro to sit by themselves for a while. Alone, the darker of the two nudged the paler, drawing his attention to peer across the room to where Duncan and Jean were now standing. Their position afforded them an excellent view of the pair's actions.

Their former companion was giving the football player what looked like a serious tongue lashing, predictably for hauling her away from the fun like a sack of potatoes, causing several heads in their immediate vicinity to turn and stare at them curiously. Duncan seemed like he was trying to calm her down, draping an arm around her heaving shoulders and moving his lips close to her ear so she could hear him better over the music. Whatever he said only served to irritate her further, at least to the two sets of watchful Brotherhood eyes, because she shoved him away and reached for her purse, flashing him an angry look before stalking off, a concerned Taryn trailing after her.

Pietro sniggered at Duncan's look of surprise.

Then Steve and another teammate, the stony faced Jeff, were at Duncan's side, both thumping him on the back and offering up encouraging words. Duncan continued to stare after Jean until she vanished down the hallway that led to the ladies' room.

As if her exit was a signal, the three athletes formed a slight huddle, still giving Lance and Pietro a good look at what they were doing. Steve peered over his shoulder to check if they were being observed, then held out a plastic cup so that Duncan could pour an open can of Diet Coke into it, while Jeff's hand dove into the pocket of his tux. When it emerged, it did so holding something too small to be seen. He then deposited whatever it was into the glass of soda. Duncan swished the liquid around a bit, the three of them smirking and snickering like idiots.

Minutes later, Jean reappeared, Taryn holding her hand and leading her to a seat, speaking rapidly into her friend's ear. The redhead nodded at the other girl's words and sat down, not sparing her date a glance.

Duncan shooed away the two guys that flanked him, and took the chair opposite Jean.

Lance reached out and gripped Pietro's arm warningly as Duncan began ingratiating himself back into Jean's good graces with an apologetic face, offering her the tainted beverage as he did so.

"Don't take it, don't take it..." Lance whispered under his breath, not wanting to get involved if he could avoid it. Jean had been pleasant company throughout the evening, but come Monday, their roles would revert back to what they'd always been, he was sure.

X-geeks were like that, with the exception of his little Kitty, of course.

As a thought of his favourite girl happened to flit through his mind, he quickly looked away from the drama unfolding a few tables away to see how she and Todd were doing.

The sight that greeted him caused flames of jealousy to kindle and flare instantly in his breast.

Kitty was in Kurt's arms, snuggled as closely against her housemate as she had been while dancing with Lance. The look on the German boy's face was one of pure elation.

Todd was now standing with Fred, both of them watching the cuddling couple with wistful expressions.

Lance felt his lip curl angrily and his hands form into fists.

"She took the drink. You want me to whip over there and 'accidentally' dump it on Duncan's overly inflated head?" Pietro asked, shifting as if anxious to do just that regardless of the reason.

The chocolate-brown eyes of the Brotherhood's leader lingered on Kitty's form, weighing Pietro's words. When she finished dancing with Kurt, she hugged the boy impulsively, and, hand in hand, they strolled back to the table full of her teammates.

Her fun with Lance and his boys was over.

"Well? Are we going to do something or not?" Pietro demanded, slightly alarmed as Jean took a sip of her soda.

Lance shook his head. Betrayal, jealousy, and bitterness warred within him, leaving no room for anything else. Kitty had come to her senses and gone back to her own kind again, he thought to himself, standing up and retrieving his jacket.

"Good, we'll go together!" Pietro smiled malevolently, standing up beside him. "This'll-be-really-really-_really_-fun-especially-since-I-haven't-pulled-any-pranks-on-that-shithead-all-day!" Pietro said in an excited rush, rubbing his hands together with relish.

Lance gave the other boy a funny look. "We're leaving," he said, walking towards the exit.

Pietro shot him a double take, not sure he'd heard correctly. "_Leaving_? I thought we gonna save your girlfriend's redheaded comrade over there -" he began with a raised eyebrow, before Lance cut him off violently.

"She's _**not**_ my girlfriend! And as for helping out one of her buddies," his eyes crept over to where Jean was downing her drink thirstily, his conscience struggling to make itself known, before he continued walking. "Let her stupid friends take care of their own," he muttered, striding away hurriedly while motioning for Todd and Fred to fall into step.

Pietro, not understanding what had changed Lance's mood so drastically, hesitated before following. An angry scowl of his own appeared on his sharply handsome face, and he debated disobeying Lance's order to leave the situation alone.

After all, no one told Pietro Maximoff what to do.

But after giving Jean and her groupies one final look, torn by his inaction, he zipped after his friends with a curse on his lips.

* * *

CRACK! 

Differently coloured balls smacked off the green baize surface of the pool table, bouncing and spinning violently, some of them disappearing down the dark holes at each corner and along the side.

Logan gripped his cigar tightly between his teeth as he stood back to survey the damage his break had caused, silently debating as to where he should strike next. Decision made, he leaned forward and took aim, the long, thin piece of graphite he gripped poised unerringly just behind the cue ball. His eyes flickered up briefly to make sure his alignment was correct, before smacking the little white sphere with controlled force.

He took the stogie from between his lips, a cloud of blue smoke floating up to wreath his head, as he watched some of the remaining balls drop from sight.

"You want another round, buddy?" the gravelly voice of the bartender came from across the room.

Logan looked at the collection of empty beer bottles that had sprouted up around him, as plentiful as mushrooms after a good rain, and raised a hand to wave the man over. "Keep 'em comin', Harry," he replied, tossing the remains of his cigar into a bucket against the wall placed there for that very purpose.

Logan leaned the pool cue against the table, pausing his game so he could finish the liquid in his latest bottle, and let his eyes wander.

'Harry's Hideaway' was a run-down old place, practically a shack if you looked close enough, nestled back into a grove of trees along an obscure dirt road. It looked bad, smelled even worse, and catered to one of the roughest crowds Logan had ever seen outside of a major city.

All in all, it suited him perfectly.

Suddenly, shouts near the front of the room sounded, garnering Logan's attention, as two drunken truck drivers lurched up from their spots at one of the poker tables, arguing rabidly. Cards and chips were scattered over the sawdust-strewn floor as the men started grappling with one another, several other patrons ducking for cover, until the massive Harry lumbered over with his 'whacking stick', as he'd fondly called it during one of his and Logan's infrequent conversations.

"What th' hell d'ya think yer _doing_? Git th' _hell_ outta my bar!" the huge owner thundered, the rounded end of his stick slapping threateningly into the palm of his hand.

"Mind yer own business, Harry!" one warned, gouging the eye of his opponent.

"Fuck you, Harry!" the other man shouted at the same time, ripping the other fighter's shirt.

Logan winced and chuckled, not bothering to stir himself, knowing what was going to come next.

Harry didn't react to kindly to the pair's words, his face taking on a dangerous frown, as he came around the table and tried to break them up. He grabbed the man nearest to him.

"I said, FUCK YO-_oofff_!" the man grated, releasing his hold on the other brawler, only to find Harry's bat thrust into his stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

Harry grabbed the now gasping offender by the scruff of his neck and propelled him bodily through the swinging door of the entry, forcefully enough to send him sprawling into the rocky parking lot outside.

"WHEN I SAY 'GIT OUT', I MEAN IT! AND DON'T BOTHER COMIN' BACK!" Harry shouted after him, not giving the man a second glance. Swinging around to face the now nearly silent group of customers, eyes like storm clouds, the bartender raised his stick and waved it around. "An' that goes for the rest of you! You'll take yer differences **outside**! Or you'll be makin' the acquaintance of my friend here," he said, indicating the piece of lumber in his hands.

No one moved until the other man involved with the fight mumbled an apology and quickly scurried to another table to finish his game of chance. And then life went back to the way it had been, as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary a minute before.

Logan chuckled again as Harry went back behind the counter and stowed his bat underneath, muttering all the while. Deciding he was bored with pool, Logan replaced his cue on the rack hanging from the wall and ambled across the room to take a seat at the bar, slapping down a few bills for the beers that hadn't been served to him yet.

Harry gave Logan a friendly smile, anger replaced as quickly as it had arrived, and pulled a bottle of beer from the small fridge at his feet. Popping the cap with an opener, he handed the drink to Logan, giving him a curious look in the process. Mouth already sucking the amber liquid from the bottle, Logan raised an eyebrow, entreating the bear-like man to ask whatever was on his mind.

"Haven't seen you around these past few weeks. Got me wonderin' where you'd gone off to," Harry commented, drying clean glasses from the dishwasher.

"Been busy," Logan said shortly.

_Yeah, **busy** chasin' after a student at the school I work for, a girl young enough t' be my daughter_...his inner voice echoed in disgust.

Harry read the stony look on Logan's face with a practiced glance, still polishing his water-beaded mugs. "Busy doin' what?" he probed innocently, enjoying listening to his patrons tell him about the things that were going on in their lives. Helped pass the time and made for good conversation.

Logan didn't respond, just stared at the bottle between his hands, eyes turned inwards.

_A gorgeous little redhead, Harry. That's what I've been **doing **- or at least tryin' to do - until I woke the fuck up..._

The thought made him snort derisively.

Still silent, Logan dug into his coat pocket and pulled out his last cigar, eyeing it appraisingly for a second before putting it back and taking out his pack of cigarettes instead. _Save it for later_, he told himself, flicking his lighter to life with a snap of his thumb. Sparking up the smoke between his lips, Logan inhaled deeply and went back to nursing his beer.

Harry just nodded sagaciously at his customer's refusal to reply. "Woman trouble, eh?" the bartender said knowingly, tossing the drying cloth over his shoulder.

Logan's face stayed immobile at the words, but his eyes betrayed him, widening slightly in surprise.

Harry gave a hearty laugh at his reaction. "You can't be in this profession as long as I've been and not know what brings your customers in. It's like those country songs say; if it ain't money problems, yer dog dyin', or yer wheels gitten' trashed, it's a pair of pretty eyes and whatever they're attached to," he explained, open mouth revealing several missing teeth.

Guarded but amused, Logan gave the man a strained smile, taking another drag. "You just gave me three other reasons for why I could be here. What makes you think I've been dealin' with a woman?" he asked tonelessly.

Harry gave him a look of mock outrage. "You kiddin', son? It's writ' all over yer face! I can read a person better than you could read a book, believe-you-me. As soon as you came in tonight, full of piss and vinegar, drinking up a storm, not even giving them gals over at that table near the front so much as a glance, I told myself 'there's a man havin' a bad time with love'."

"What? How'd love get inta th' equation? You been dippin' into some of that booze, Harry?" Logan asked scornfully, tapping ashes into a bowl already littered with butts.

Harry held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, deny it if ya want to, I'm not one t' argue. I just call 'em as I see 'em, and in your case, I say yer a man in love." The big man finished with a sly smile.

Logan sat back with a snort, face derisive, while inside, he was aghast.

How could someone he barely knew be able to guess that his heart was being tormented by his common sense?

Was it that plain on his face?

Was his torture that apparent?

Angrily going back to his beer, Logan turned from Harry as another customer demanded his attention, eyes seeking a diversion from his morose thoughts. His gaze became speculative moments later.

As the bartender had indicated, a group of women had indeed taken residence at one of the booths near the front of the establishment, drinking and laughing loudly. He thoughtfully ran his eyes over each one, taking in their revealing clothing, heavy make-up, and teased hair. None of them were particularly attractive, but they had nice figures and seemed a lively bunch, and most importantly, they were all old enough.

_No little girls here_, Logan told himself, deciding to go over and pay them a visit - to spite Harry, to spite Jean, to prove a point.

He wasn't in love with Jean.

He wasn't in love with anyone.

He was a man, first and foremost, with a man's appreciation for something pretty, a man's lust, a man's desire. He liked looking at Jean, with her creamy skin, slender legs, and cherry lips - what red-blooded male wouldn't?

_Too many people confuse feelin's from other parts of their anatomy with love - I ain't one of 'em..._

_Do I want Jeannie?_

Heated shame washed over him.

_Yeh..._

_Do I **love** her?_

Logan shook his head in irritation, feeling his body start to tremble at the internal conflict his thoughts provoked.

_It's not a question of 'want' or...anything else_, he told himself sternly. _It's a matter of doing what's right_.

Harry was wrong...Jean was wrong...hell, even his own insides were wrong. They were all telling him that he was experiencing emotions, going through something that he knew he wasn't, that he was denying the truth and hiding behind excuses.

_Why'd you get so jealous then, when Jeannie left with that kid tonight?_ His brain interrupted.

_I didn't get jealous, I got concerned. It's a perfectly natural instinct when dealing with someone so **young**_, he argued silently.

_Yeah, **sure**, bub. What was it you were sayin', 'bout denying the truth and hiding behind excuses?_

Growling at the voice in his head until it quieted, Logan picked up his beer and stomped over to the ladies' table, determinedly smoothing his features into something less threatening.

The women, watching him approach, broke into smiles when he arrived, asking him to join them immediately. Logan smiled in return and pulled a chair over so he could sit at the table's head, listening to their slurring voices as they introduced themselves to him.

Deborah, Sue, Jessie, Mandy, and Amber...Amber who smiled at him with coy self-assurance when she was introduced.

Logan found his stare going back to her once or twice while the other women chattered, noticing that her eyes were blue under all the mascara she wore, her mahogany hair was dyed, and her breasts seemed unnaturally perky beneath the fishnet tank top she sported.

He saw her darting sneaky looks his way when she thought he wasn't watching, and shifting her position so that her cleavage showed more enticingly when he was. Logan even noticed her tongue sliding along her pink lips suggestively after she'd had a few more drinks, giving his body - or more specifically, his crotch - a significant going-over.

He found himself flushing under her predatory scrutiny, but welcomed the discomfort.

_You wanted to have some 'fun' tonight, didn't you? You wanted to set the record straight for all those people who thought they knew how you felt, didn't you? Well, here's your chance to prove to yourself that **you're** the one who's right..._

After thinking those particular words, hearing the challenge his inner self offered, Logan raised his eyebrows and gave Amber his most seductive look, nodding towards the doorway.

Her answering grin was eager and triumphant.

They left the bar together a few minutes later, Logan not bothering to catch Harry's wave of farewell as he followed the woman's swaying hips through the doorway.

Harry only shook his head, bemused, as the door swung shut.

"Yer makin' a mistake, friend," the bartender muttered to himself. "What yer runnin' from ain't gonna be so easy to escape as you think it is - 'specially not with what you just walked out with." His eyes were disapproving.

"Love just don't work that way."

* * *

Jean was entranced. 

The lights were so interesting! They were shiny and full of rainbows and oh so swirly!

She giggled and felt her head flop back as if her neck was made out of elastic.

_Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy_, she thought, her head bobbing.

"Okay Jean, I think it's time we left." Duncan's amused voice sounded from somewhere to her left.

Her lips pressed together into a little bow of dissatisfaction. "I don' _wanna_ go! I wanna _dance_!" she chirped petulantly, wondering why it was so hard to form such easy words.

She heard Duncan chuckle, before being pulled from her chair and into his arms. Almost instantly, her legs went out from under her, and she would have fallen if it hadn't been for his hold.

"Whoopsie!" she said with a titter, trying unsuccessfully to stand without his assistance.

It was no use - she was as wobbly as if she were trying to use cooked spaghetti as stilts.

"Still think you can dance?" Duncan asked, looking down at her slumped body.

Not able to come up with any other response, she poked the boy's stomach with a lazy finger. "Nuh-uhn. Too tired."

Her blood seemed to move sluggishly through her veins, her eyes couldn't focus on her date's face, and she wondered, vaguely, who had stuffed her head full of cotton. Attempting to speak was too much effort, she discovered, and only silly giggles would come out when she tried anyway. She decided to let Duncan take charge.

It was what he'd hoped she do.

After she'd relaxed into his chest, he draped her dangling arm over his shoulder, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and half dragged, half carried her to the parking lot, a sly smile plastered across his face. He called out hasty good byes to his friends, favouring Jeff and Steve with a nod that only the three of them knew the meaning of, and exited the stuffy gym.

The cool spring air helped Jean snap out of her stupor slightly, and she raised her head from its position of studying the ground as it sped by to glance around at her surroundings. "We're _out_!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Jean. We're...uh, out," the blond boy muttered, hopeful that the momentary spurt of awareness was just that - momentary.

He couldn't believe how effective Jeff's 'magic pills' had been. A little over a half-hour ago Jean had finished the spiked drink. Within seconds of sipping the last few drops, her mood and behavior had altered rapidly. She had gone from strangely elated, to giddy, to sounding drunk, and now this; barely walking, hardly talking, finding it difficult to think.

Duncan would have laughed out loud had it not been for the groups of students all around him, out for a smoke between songs. Instead he fended off concerned inquiries, telling the people who asked that Jean was tired, hinting that they'd been drinking before the dance and that she wasn't able to hold her liquor very well. No one challenged him as he pushed further into the large parking lot, finally reaching his car with a sigh.

"Geez, Jean, for having such a luscious little body, you sure are heavy!" the boy panted, setting his burden down on the trunk of the car.

"Heavy..." Jean agreed, eyelids fluttering as if she was using all her strength to keep them open.

"Babe, if you're tired, just close those sweet green eyes, lay back in the seat, and I'll make sure you get to where you should be going," Duncan said softly, a promise of something far more sinister in his innocent words.

To Jean, he sounded wonderful.

So concerned for her welfare, so gallant to carry her out of the dance, so sweet for taking her home...

Wanting to tell him just that, she forced her vision to focus and her legs to brace themselves against the car's exterior, when her attention was caught by a group of boys standing a few yards away, just around the corner of the building that housed the dance.

"Look! It's Lance and Todd and Fred and Pi-Pi-Peeyaytro!" she cried, fumbling over Quicksilver's name as if she was saying it for the first time. "I won'ner what they're doin' out here?" she asked in muddled confusion, hand reaching up to brush loose hair from her cheek clumsily.

"Probably chucking rocks at people as they drive by," Duncan muttered distractedly, rolling the retractable canvas roof back from where it hooked into the dashboard. The sleek fabric stowed away safely, the muscled jock turned to face his date, an amiable smile on his face. "What do you care what they're doing, babe? Let's get outta here," he said, leading her to the passenger side.

"I wanted t' say g'bye'," came the redhead's sad response as her seatbelt was buckled for her.

Duncan ignored her comments, going to pace excitedly behind the car as if waiting for something.

Jean, still horribly confused, tried to turn around to ask him what he was doing, when his friends, Steve and Jeff suddenly emerged from the darkness. All three boys were laughing softly as they hopped into the car, none of them saying anything to Jean, Duncan quickly revving the Porsche to life.

Her date caught her questioning look and patted her hand soothingly. "I'm giving the guys rides home too," he said, reading her face before she could speak.

_But they have their own cars_, Jean's mind flashed suspiciously, the errant thought skittering away as quickly as it surfaced, replaced by disjointed, whirling stars as her head dropped back to contemplate the evening sky.

_So pretty..._she thought dreamily, as the car snaked its way out of the lot.

* * *

Todd had been saving a particularly nice-sized rock for Duncan's car. When he saw the expensive machine rolling his way, his wiry arm drew back, fingers splayed over the jagged edges of the missile, ready to strike... 

"_Damn_! His car's full of freakin' jocks!" the smallest member of the team reported in irritation, heaving the rock over his shoulder where it smashed through the windshield of Principal Kelly's station wagon loudly.

Pietro, leaning back against the brick wall in a crouch, looked up to Lance with ill-concealed accusation blazing in his icy eyes.

"Leave it, Speedy," Lance growled in response, sipping from a small bottle of whiskey he'd stolen from one of the dance's younger attendees.

Pietro sighed dramatically, pushing himself up from his position.

"This is stupid, even for you!" the pale boy muttered, hands fluttering in agitation around his head.

Lance turned hooded, dangerous eyes on his friend. "Shut - it! Or will I have to do that for you?" the larger of the two asked threateningly.

Fred and Todd had stopped their rock-chucking to watch their comrade's antagonistic display uncomfortably, not liking to be part of fights unless they were with other people.

Unperturbed, Pietro continued, feet and hands moving faster and faster the more animated he got. "We may not be on the same side as those jack-offs at the Institute, and I certainly don't feel like I should be helping any of them, regardless of the situation, but _this_!" he gritted angrily. "This isn't like stealing so we have food to eat, or clothes on our backs, or even Toad's 'artistic' re-modeling of Kelly's jalopy!" he said indicating the broken glass of their principal's car.

Lance seemed to pay Pietro's diatribe no mind, just continued downing the harsh alcohol with a twist of his lips at each burning mouthful.

"What's Pietro talkin' about?" Fred asked Lance in a hushed voice.

"I'll tell you what I'm talking about, Freddy," Pietro countered swiftly. "I'm talking about something real bad happening to someone and us knowing about it and not doing anything to prevent it!"

Todd, now sitting on the ground, flicked a pebble at Lance's scuffed shoes. "What's he goin' on about, yo?" the younger boy queried, searching for another projectile.

"Nothin', Todd. He's crazy," Lance mumbled, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his once pristine suit.

"_Crazy_?" Pietro hollered, stopping in his tracks, fixing their leader with wide eyes. "No, Lance, I'll tell you what's crazy - crazy is letting that shit-for-brains Duncan and his buddies force themselves on a girl who can't defend herself!" he spat.

"_What_ girl?" Todd scoffed, wondering if Lance was right about the high-strung speedster being nuts.

Pietro ran a hand through his neatly groomed hair with a sigh. "Jean Grey," he answered finally.

Fred and Todd looked at Pietro for a few seconds after the words were spoken, before turning to each other and laughing derisively.

"Yo! In case your brain can't keep up with the rest of you, _Quicksilver_," Todd joked, "Jean's more powerful than most mutants. She'll kill Duncan if he tries anything! Damn, I'll even feel sorry for the guy if he does what you think he's going to do!"

"Yeah!" Fred echoed, rolls of fat jiggling with his guffaws.

"He spiked her drink, you idiots!" Pietro argued, satisfied when their laughter was cut short by his revelation.

Todd raised an eyebrow. "With _what_? Alcohol?" he asked, still disbelieving.

"No, some kind of pill - maybe a Roofie," Pietro explained. He huffed in exasperation when he saw the term 'Roofie' meant nothing to them. "Rohypnol - you know, that date rape drug that's always in the news? Guys put it in girls' drinks and then while they're unconscious, they take advantage of them. Geez, try to keep up, would ya?" the white haired youth groused.

Todd looked like he was trying to absorb all the information that had just been offered, while Fred peered down at Pietro, concern evident in his features.

"So...if you knew about this, why didn't you stop him? Jean's not my favourite person, you guys know that, especially after the way she treated me when I first came to town, but she was tryin' to be nice tonight. I had fun with her and Kitty," the large boy said with fond rememberance, face shy once again.

"_Yeah_!" Todd spoke up suddenly. "And we hate Duncan - isn't that enough of a reason to get involved?" the smaller boy asked vehemently.

Lance, silent during their entire conversation, remained so even now.

Pietro looked at his closest friend within the Brotherhood as he polished off the bottle of liquor with a mixture of scorn and anger. "We're not getting _involved_ because someone got pissed off when his _girlfriend_ decided to ditch him for fuzzier company," Pietro said smoothly.

As quick as the boy was, he was surprised to find Lance's hands suddenly gripping his jacket lapels, their faces so close he could smell the whiskey on his breath, within seconds of speaking.

"**She's not my** _**fucking**_ **girlfriend**!" Lance yelled, giving Pietro a shake. "And I don't care _what_ happens to that red haired bitch! She's no friend of mine!"

Pietro placed his hands over Lance's to still his movement. "She's not mine, either," he said when Lance halted, eyes meeting the other boy's. "But if we leave her to Duncan's mercy, then we'll be exactly what those X-geeks claim we are - the worst kind of scum," Pietro said softly, watching as Lance absorbed his opinion.

"Do you want that to be true?" Pietro asked after a few seconds.

Lance was looking off into space, contemplating, his hands shaking with suppressed emotion as his conscience warred against other desperate feelings within his breast.

"Uhm, like, am I interrupting something?" a hesitant female voice came from the corner of the building.

So interested had each of the boys become in the quarrel, that no one had noticed Kitty's approach. The girl stood uneasily within the glow of an overhead flood light, hands twisting in the fabric of her filmy gown.

Lance, surprised by her appearance, let his hands drop from Pietro's chest, the other boy backing away hurriedly, brushing his jacket free of the wrinkles Lance's grip had caused.

"No, Kitty. We were just, uh...uh..." Lance fumbled for a plausible lie.

The girl didn't bother to wait for his reasoning.

"I'm looking for Jean. She was acting funny when I last saw her and I wanted to make sure she was okay," the petite brunette explained, giving each boy a worried glance. "You haven't seen her out here, have you?" she asked, moving closer to Lance.

"No - I mean _yes_! Yes we did. She left with Duncan a few minutes ago," the flustered boy admitted, trying to keep from breathing on Kitty lest she surmise he'd been drinking.

"Oh, good. After the way she was behaving inside - like, staggering around and talking gibberish, I'd hoped that she'd decided to go home for some rest. She must have been overtired." Kitty breathed in relief.

Concern for her friend put at ease, she smiled at Lance, doing up a button that had come undone on his shirt. "Will you be coming back in for another dance?" she asked while her fingers lightly played over his chest after she'd straightened his attire.

Lance found it hard to concentrate, focusing solely on the delicate tickles her touch evoked. Shaking his head to clear away the sensation, he caught her hand in his own. "Sorry, Kit-Kat, but we have to be going. It's been a long night and we still have...stuff to do," he told her disappointedly.

Kitty didn't look too happy either, pouting at the thought of not spending one of the final slow dances with him, but then her face was smiling again as she stood up on her tiptoes to brush her lips softly against his cheek in farewell. "Well, there'll be other dances. Thanks for the great time we had at this one," she said, fluttering her baby-blues coquettishly at him, then waving to his friends before turning around and heading back in the direction that the music was coming from.

Lance gazed after her nubile form until she vanished back inside, sighing contentedly as his fingertips gently touched the spot where her lips had been.

Pietro coughed to get his attention, giving the other boy a wide-eyed look of irritation when their eyes met.

"_Well_?" Pietro asked, Fred and Todd fidgeting on either side of him.

Lance, snapping out of his reverie, nodded to brethren and straightened his tux.

"Let's go."

* * *

Jean, half asleep, was grateful when the car finally stopped moving. Its lurching had made her feel quite ill, and now all she wanted to do was get out of her binding party clothes and climb into bed. 

Sighing contentedly, she rolled her head lazily to look at Duncan, and saw to her surprise that the car was now surrounded by trees, deep within the night's pervasive darkness.

"Where are we?" was what she tried to say, but her mouth wouldn't work, like it had gone numb.

Duncan, staring at her with glittering eyes that shone in the scant moonlight, reached out a hand to touch her cheek. "Relax, babe. We're just making a pit stop - the boys couldn't wait 'til they got home," her date said, motioning to the other two passengers who were getting out of the car, their combined laughter sounding tinny to Jean's ears.

She nodded, letting her head fall back against her seat, too sleepy to care what was going on. She just wanted to get home.

But Duncan had other activities in mind.

The hand that had been touching her cheek slid down the length of her jaw, trailing along the smooth skin of her throat, to stroke a rounded breast through the material of her gown.

In no mood for his advances, Jean irritably tried to swat his hand away, but her arm wouldn't move.

"'top it," she managed to mumble, hoping he'd hear over the quiet music that was playing on his stereo. If he did, he paid her no heed, just continued cupping the soft flesh and squeezing gently, his other hand joining in by petting the other globe.

Jean sighed, having no strength to protest any further, and just let him do what he wanted to.

_He'll stop when Steve and Jeff get back from their 'bathroom break'_, her brain realized sluggishly. _Besides_, she grudgingly admitted. _Whatever he's doing does feel kinda nice, kinda relaxing..._

Duncan warmed up to his sport when he saw she wasn't complaining anymore, fingertips making slowly tightening circles over his targets, until they found the protruding buds of her nipples under her dress, teased to wakefulness by his insistent touch.

Jean gasped unwittingly as she felt the two sensitive peaks pinched gently between his thumb and forefinger, surprised by the jolt of electricity that crackled through her otherwise slumbering senses.

Her date took her sound as his cue to proceed, leaning into her quickly and covering her mouth with his own, his tongue forcing its way past her unresponsive lips. Jean gagged slightly at the intrusion, feeling the pressure of his kiss all the way in the back of her throat, and tried once again to push him off. Duncan was too strong to move in her incapacitated state, though, so his fondling continued unabated as she tried to steady her mind so she could telekinetically brush him aside.

Frustration filled her after numerous attempts to take hold of her power yielded no results. It was like trying to grab a slippery, wriggling fish with her bare hands, and she couldn't direct her consciousness through the muddy waters of her thoughts with enough determination to make the process easier.

_Just keep trying_, she told herself, wondering why Jeff and Steve were taking so long.

Duncan lifted off of her to allow his lips to blaze a wet, heated path down her neck, then back up so he could lick her ear excitedly. She could hear his heavy, ragged breathing, and feel his hands stray from her breasts to just below her knees. As he nibbled her skin and let his skillful, knowing fingers slide up her thighs, Jean's blood started to heat pleasantly in her veins, distracting her so that her as mind clouded with the first stirrings of desire, her teke abilities scattered once again. She couldn't even remember why she'd been trying to summon her powers in the first place, as a strangely blissful sensation began to replace the irritation that had claimed her at the start of Duncan's manipulations.

Strange, random images began flitting through her mind as she surrendered herself to the new feelings that stormed through her body; images of pale, pink blossoms floating from a cherry tree in early bloom, drifting down to the ground like they were weightless.

_Like I feel_, she thought drowsily before a frown came over her face.

Who was that person sitting just beyond the tree? She wondered, trying to bring the thought into focus.

_Ah, Logan...that day I found him meditating_... she realized, remembering how he had looked that afternoon in the garden.

Peaceful, aloof, and so ruggedly handsome that she hadn't been able to resist the nervous need that had suddenly swept through her being at discovering him alone.

She let her mind run through their encounter absently, having memorized all of it for secret, sweet savoring later - how his eyebrows had quirked at her questioningly, how the wind had teased his wild hair, how soft his touch had been...

In her current, altered state of mind, the memory slanted when it got to where she was leaning into his chest, offering herself to him. Instead of walking away and leaving her like he had done in reality, he was now pulling her into his embrace, kissing her with wanton abandon, hands holding her against him as if afraid to let her go.

Drifting back to awareness, the dream merged into real life as she felt the same caresses she had envisioned moving all across her skin, the same liquid fire snaking into her groin. A little moan escaped her as, in her mind's eye, Logan's mouth touched on the smoothness of her skin, making her shudder with euphoria.

Her cry caught Duncan's attention, and he flicked a glance at her sweetly wanting face, the lashes of her closed eyes fluttering like the delicate wings of a dragonfly.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" he asked in a passion-slurred murmur, hands pressing harder and higher on her legs. "You like _this_?" he breathed, fingers kneading her inner thigh.

"Mmmm..." Jean sounded, lost to who she was really with.

"And _this_...?" The fingers worked their way up.

Jean remained silent, gasping a little.

Sure that victory was imminent, Duncan smiled viciously at his date's nearly comatose form, and pressed his advantage. "How about..._this_?" his voice hissed seductively, his hand now firmly cradling the hot, panty-covered mound between her legs.

When Jean's groan sounded again, the boy wasted no time.

He stroked her firmly through her slowly dampening panties, feeling his erection throbbing in time with his own racing heartbeat, straining painfully within his pants, while his other hand reached around her shoulders to start unhooking the clasps on her dress.

Jean, lingering in her drug-induced fantasy, was amazed by the waves of intense pleasure that started to build under Duncan's eager ministrations, never allowing anyone - not even herself - to touch her body in such an intimate way.

Her dress slipped low, baring her white breasts to the moonglow and Duncan's appreciative gaze, and with a hungry growl, he bent his head and took the succulent pink nub of her nipple into his mouth, his fingers still flickering against the moistness under her skirts.

Flying amidst the swirling colours that were her thoughts, Jean rode the tide of mounting excitement, wishing her arms would obey and lift up so she could run them all over 'Logan's' hard body.

When she heard a creaking noise and felt her seat shift, she was startled out of her reverie, slight wakefulness chasing away the imminent peaking of her pleasure, causing her to open her eyes. The faces of the previously absent Steve and Jeff were looking down at her, the car still shaking slightly beneath their recently added weight. Then Duncan's head raised from its suckling, meeting her still-glazed eyes with heated ones of his own.

Seeing his face where Logan's should have been, at least according to her jumbled brain, shocked her into horrified semi-consciousness.

_I'm undressed - they can see me - what am I doing?_ Rushed through her head as she vainly tried to tug up the bodice of her gown.

"No, no, I like it better off," Duncan said smoothly, grabbing the hand that was weakly attempting to cover her partial nudity in an iron grip.

Jean let her head roll so she could look up at the other boys pleadingly.

Steve was watching her with ill-concealed lust in his usually blue eyes, now black in the murk. His thick lips were open in awe at the sight before him, and his pudgy hands hovered above her chest as if wanting, but not daring, to touch her.

Jeff would have been good-looking if it hadn't been for the cruelty reflected in his agate-coloured eyes Jean had seen present since the day she'd met him. On the rare occasion she'd let her mind skim over the thoughts of her friends, his had always been the darkest, prompting her to withdraw quickly and seek out sunnier pastures to help erase the disturbing images she'd gleaned from him.

She knew she'd find no hero in either.

Steeling herself to launch a psychic attack on the three boys, she encountered the same emptiness, same lack of ability she'd discovered before.

_I'm powerless..._

And what was worse, her head couldn't keep up with what was going on, floating with unconcern one moment as if forgetting the predicament she was in, spinning the next with nausea as the situation clarified. The clear thoughts were infrequent and only served to confuse her further, so when Jeff took her hand from Duncan, and Steve reached over to take the other, she had to fight to understand what it was they were doing to her.

Her body lifted up suddenly, borne out of the confined space of the car by her date, Jeff and Steve keeping firm holds on her wrists, until she felt the unevenness of the rocky ground beneath her.

_My dress will get all dirty_... she thought with misplaced concern, arms shuddering uselessly as she tried to push herself up.

Duncan was once again on top of her, pressing back her feebly twitching body so that she could feel each individual stone digging into her back and buttocks painfully.

"Off!" she ordered with difficulty, squirming to get out from under his muscled form.

Duncan had her pinned.

She didn't see the worried look her date shot Jeff after she'd made her protestation, still intent on trying to relieve the discomfort of her position.

Jeff nodded down to his compatriot with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I've got more 'supplies' if she gets any more lucid." The boy chuckled while pulling a small bottle from his pocket and unscrewing the cap. "She'll be lucky if she remembers her name after another one," he added, handing Duncan an oval-shaped blue tablet.

Duncan pondered the pill for a second, finally deciding that events had progressed too far not to use it, thrusting it into Jean's mouth forcefully. Jean sputtered and gagged as his fingers dove between her lips, pushing the capsule past her tongue.

She did the only thing she could think of; she bit down - hard.

"_Fuck_!" Duncan hollered, extracting his injured digits from her teeth, shaking them angrily.

Jean spat the pill at him, its sour grit flooding her taste buds.

Wiping spittle from his face, Duncan turned his savage gaze on her, then down to the rest of her dress. With a quick yank of his powerful hands, the sheer fabric split apart, baring her to the navel.

Gasping in outrage, Jean's arm raised with monumental effort, about to strike him, when Steve decided to join the party. Trapping her palm under his knee, the dark-haired boy leaned across to squeeze her breasts roughly, eliciting a cry of protest from the girl they were attached to.

Jeff, another pill in hand, knelt on the opposite side of Steve and took Jean's cheeks between his steady fingers. Exerting bruising pressure, his grip tightened like a vise until her mouth opened of its own volition, and he was able to safely deposit the drug within.

Jean had planned to simply eject the foreign object like she had the last one, but the boy's fingers went under her chin next, snapping her mouth shut so sharply that teeth met teeth jarringly. His other hand pinched her nostrils closed, cutting off her air supply until she swallowed.

_Or suffocated!_ Jean thought with sudden wildness, choking on the saliva that began building up in an effort to keep whatever it was Jeff had put in her mouth from being ingested.

While she struggled to hold her breath, she felt hands crawling over her nakedness, like hairy, thick-legged spiders, touching her wherever they wanted to. One was hiking her skirts up past her hips before it started to hurriedly strip her of her undergarments, baring her completely.

Tears of fear and fury began to seep from her closed eyes as she railed at her impotence. She heard Jeff laugh malevolently at seeing the moisture leak past her lashes. He still maintained his hold on her patiently, neither Duncan nor Steve seeming to care about what he was doing.

Jean knew her small amount of strength was failing, dissipating into the rushing darkness, leaving her strangely calm. Her consciousness flickered on the border of oblivion, and she felt the collected liquid in her mouth start trickling down her throat despite her efforts, the pill now fully dissolved, just as something warm and stiff pressed against her thigh.

All at once, as if the lack of oxygen, coupled with the alarm of feeling something alien probing her lower parts, served to assist her mind's direction, she detected the presence of her powers just beneath the thin layer of haze in her head. She pulled desperately at the glow until she felt it surging through her blood like adrenaline, threading through the drug's effects and urging her to action.

With as much force as she could muster, she aimed her strength at the three boys, slamming into each of them hard enough to throw them back several paces. Then, drawing in as much air as was possible to fill her starving lungs, she tried to hold onto her teke to keep her attackers at bay. At the same time, she picked at the filaments of her telepathy, sending out her mind in an effort to locate help.

Dimly, she saw the boys stand up, unsure of what had just happened, breaking her fragile, intangible connection to them. Frantic as they approached her prone body again, she hurriedly scanned for a thought wave that would announce another presence she could alert.

Jean's search halted in surprise, not registering hands and lips once again touching her nudity, as she honed in on a familiar mind.

_Logan?_ she wondered thickly.

She touched the mind again, hope flaring, and discovered it to be his, and nearby at that. Hurriedly she tried to project what was happening to her, begging him to come to her aid.

Duncan was pulling her legs apart, positioning himself between them, naked from the waist down.

Jean was crying in earnest now, waiting for Logan's response, waiting for acknowledgement that he understood what she had attempted to convey and was on his way...

She detected vague annoyance from him, a flash of irritation, and then, with an impression of hostility, he closed the doors of his mind, and firmly shut her out.

* * *

Amber leaned against the woodpile that had been stacked haphazardly outside Harry's bar, her shirt unlaced to reveal her assuredly augmented breasts, a hand stroking Logan's growing erection from the outside of his jeans. Murmuring throaty entreaties, she cuddled more snugly into Logan's arms, her other arm sliding up so that her fingers could tug playfully on his chest hair. 

In response to her demands, Logan bit her neck, feeling her shudder deliciously all around him. He growled appreciatively before taking her ass cheeks firmly in either hand and squeezing them, pressing his groin against hers. He lifted his head and gave her a quick look of approval; she was proving to be exactly what he'd been looking for, an uncomplicated fuck.

She had already stripped off her pantyhose and admitted in a seductively guilty voice, amidst gasping breaths of pleasure, that she never wore underwear.

Logan had pushed her skirt above her hips and found her statement to be true. He also realized, after a quick assessment of the curly hairs that adorned her mound, that his initial opinion had been true, too.

The auburn was a dye job.

Chuckling, he let the girl unzip his fly and extract his semi-firm erection, watching as she eyed his massive member greedily. She licked her lips lustfully, and without waiting for an invitation, stooped down to take the entire length into her warm, wet mouth, sliding his shaft in and out of her orifice like a pro.

_Probably was one, once_, Logan thought with a small smile, letting his head drop back, allowing the stimulation to take precedence.

_...Logan?_

Opening eyes that had just closed in pleasant abandon, Logan looked around for the source of the voice he'd heard.

He didn't see anyone. He glanced down at the girl.

Amber, not stirring from her kneeling position, hadn't stopped her noisy slurping, making Logan wonder if he'd been hearing things.

_Funny, it sounded like Jeannie's voice_, he thought with a sense of dismissal.

_**...Logan!**_

The voice sounded again, unmistakably from inside his head.

_What the hell?_ He silently swore, gently reaching down to touch Amber's head, wanting her to pause for a moment.

The girl didn't seem to notice his hand in her hair, and before Logan could voice his request, Jean flooded his mind with cloudy, incomprehensible pictures.

_**Logan**...**need** **you**...**come!... **_sounded pleadingly, disjointedly, alongside images of her writhing nakedly on the ground, interspersed with flashes of starbursts and wild rivers of colour. A vague sense of fear crept into her communication, coupled, strangely enough, with a heated wave of arousal.

Logan was stunned.

Was she trying to use her abilities to...entice him? To draw him to her? To excite him? How else could he explain the erotic scene pitted with feelings of desperation unfolding in his mind?

His instinctive reaction was one of such overpowering desire that it made his whole body shake and his cock come dangerously near the brink of exploding into Amber's eagerly sucking mouth. He gasped, eyes wide, as the intense emotions that cascaded through him seemed only to build, the mental projection of Jean filling his head so completely that it became his only thought. The initial sliver of lust surged into a raging inferno of all-consuming need as it swept through his veins, inflaming him so that he wondered how his skin could contain it.

Amber's nails digging into his thighs were what brought him back to reality, rousing a deep sense of shame and self-loathing at the direction his weakness had taken him.

Desperately, Logan sought control, teeth biting into his lower lip with the effort. Disgust now warring with his more base desires, he formed feelings of irritation and thinly restrained anger before evicting Jean's presence from his head, a technique that the Professor had shown him during his first days of training.

He immediately installed a mental barricade to prevent her from easing back in again. Keeping the block in place would require some attention on his part, but not enough to prevent him from exploring Amber's many charms to his satisfaction, which he fully intended to do before the night was over.

His ardor for Jean was slow to subside after the last of her thoughts vanished from his head - he could feel it simmering just below the surface of his awareness, leaving him flushed and impatient. Feverishly, Logan reached down to pull Amber up, wild to give his body release.

Hefting her up on the stacked logs so that she could wrap her long legs around his body, he entered her with a savage growl. Amber cried out at the roughness of his penetration, but then flashed him a sultry grin as she pounded herself against his pelvis in time with his own thrusts.

Burying his face in her bosom once again, relishing the soft, if manufactured, feel of her flesh, Logan banished thoughts of red-haired vixens from his mind completely.

* * *

"This road stretches for _miles_, yo! How are we supposed to find them in the dark?" Toad muttered dejectedly, hopping alongside the Blob. 

"Are you _sure_ that he said he was taking her up the service road?" The larger boy asked.

Lance, trudging down the gravel-covered road, kept darting glances left and right, searching for a sign of anything suspicious. Occasionally, he looked ahead, watching for Pietro to return. "Yeah, I'm sure," he grated, wondering how far off the other boy had ranged.

Taking on his customary role of scout, Quicksilver had parted from the group when the main road branched into the unpaved one they were currently walking along, sure that if Duncan had brought Jean to one of the many secluded spots the area boasted, he'd be able to find it.

Lance wasn't left curious for long, as a dust-covered Pietro suddenly whizzed past them, halting when he realized it was his friends he'd sped by.

"Did ya find 'em?" Fred asked eagerly as Pietro coughed on the choking road debris.

"Yeah," he gasped. "I saw a car parked just a little ways up."

Lance nodded and waved his team on, a grim set to his features.

They began to jog, the expectation of some serious ass-kicking flowing through their blood.

* * *

The effects of the most recent pill were finally making their presence known, causing Jean to giggle uncontrollably while tears flowed unchecked down her face. It sounded, to her own ears at least, like the desperate hiccuping sobs of someone mentally deranged. 

The absurdity of the thought only made her heave harder.

Duncan was in the process of slicking his erection with gobs of spit, his first attempts to impale Jean's virgin nether regions failing miserably at finding her completely dry and so tightly clenched that his shaft couldn't push past her opening.

"Maybe you should get out of the way and let a _real_ man get her started for ya, Dunk!" Jeff laughed contemptuously at the sight of his proud football captain spitting on his semi-flaccid cock, while his own formidable erection stood firm as it was bounced off of Jean's stomach impatiently.

"No way, buddy boy! My date, my fuck - at least to start," Duncan snarled, hand pumping up and down his tool furiously.

Steve was watching his two friends with wide, admiring eyes, afraid to pull out his much smaller equipment for comparison. He was content with playing with Jean's full breasts and letting his tongue glide across her smooth, fragrant skin every once and a while.

"There, that should do it," Duncan said finally, satisfied with his lube job, as he re-positioned himself before Jean's entrance.

Horribly insensible and trembling violently, what was about to happen vaguely registered in Jean's mind. With a last cry of protest, she flailed arms and legs made of rubber, heavier than sandbags, as Duncan dove into her.

A searing pain tore through her body, driving past all the illusions, mad jabbering, and flaring suns that inhabited her head, making her cry out a second time - this time, a wail of absolute despair, a wounded keening that sounded into nothingness as it shuddered and died.

Duncan had paused in surprise at finding himself buried within her, a slow smile creeping across his face before he began a steady, rocking motion that had him slapping against her buttocks and thighs. Steve and Jeff watched Duncan's straining, encouraging words issuing from their mouths, but Jean wasn't listening anymore.

She lay as still and silent as a corpse, dazed brain telling her to remain so until they'd finished with her...

It was then that she felt the first tremor.

Ignorant of the actual events that took place during intercourse, she thought that the shaking had originated from something that Duncan was doing to her, and so, didn't bother wondering about it for too long. She was more interested in all the dancing beams of light behind her eyes that distracted her from the horror she was enduring.

The ground shook again, this time lifting her body clear off the rocky terrain, breaking Duncan's connection with her as the rumbling continued.

"Was that an _earthquake_ just now?" Steve asked in a frightened voice after the grumbling had ceased, earning him scathing glances from both Duncan and Jeff, the former crawling back over to Jean.

"Are you for _real_, man? Bayville's nowhere near a -" Jeff started to berate the other boy for his stupidity, but Duncan's hand shot out to grab the lecturing youth's arm.

Jeff looked to the blond, seeing him jerk his chin significantly in the direction of the car.

Jean, wondering why Duncan had stopped, wishing he wouldn't prolong the torture and get his business over with, let her head tilt to her other side to see what they were staring at, and saw a distinct shadow loom out of the night.

"_Alvers_? Is that _you_?" Jeff called out in amused surprise, zipping himself back into his pants as he stood.

Duncan and Steve moved to cover Jean's prone body from the intruder's line of sight, realizing at once that the car afforded them all the privacy they needed for the moment. Relaxing their guard, they watched with anticipation as the most accomplished brawler on the football team approached the interloper.

Jean saw Duncan smiling to himself as Jeff cracked his knuckles, preparing for action.

Unbidden, an echo of her date's thoughts sounded within the cavern of her skull.

_You sure picked the wrong road to come down tonight, Alvers..._ he projected, shaking his head, his hand stroking Jean's soft thigh possessively. And then he was inside her again, returning to his interrupted activities without a second thought for whatever had halted him in the first place.

Jean, retreating back into the pretty world within her head as he did so, felt as if his momentary lapse had never happened, the revelation that Lance was nearby was forgotten, already swallowed up into the pastel-hued nightmare that was now her existence.

* * *

Lance saw Jeff coming around the car, shaking out his hands as if getting ready to put them use. 

"This a private party, or can anyone join in?" Lance asked in a clipped tone, trying to keep his voice cool.

His opponent smiled and gave him an inquiring glance. "Party? I don't know what you mean, Alvers," he replied amiably, eyes wide with pretended innocence."Unless you're referring to the good time my fists are gonna have knocking every tooth from your smart-ass mouth if you don't take a hike - **now**. If _that's_ the kind of 'party' you had in mind, then yeah, you're definitely on the guest list," Jeff smirked.

Lance returned the look, an eyebrow raising slightly. "Count me in," the lanky mutant replied, waving his three teammates into the clearing. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought a few more 'guests' with me." Lance smiled wickedly, watching Jeff's face grow paler in the scant moonlight as he calculated the odds against him.

"Dunca-_ahh_!" Jeff's warning cry was cut off suddenly as Fred lumbered forward and picked him up by the neck like a rag doll, the trapped boy's legs kicking feebly in mid air.

At their friend's holler, Duncan and Steve had jumped up, both looking around in perplexity at the scene that greeted them.

Toad suddenly spat out a stream of viscous slime in their direction, nailing Steve in his face. The afflicted teen screamed like the true coward he was, starting to run blindly as he tried to wipe the sticky stuff away, only to have Toad leap on top of him, bearing him to the ground. Steve fainted at the contact and dropped like a stone, unmoving except for his pitiful moans of fear.

The Blob, tired of holding Jeff who was squealing like a girl in his grip, punched his captive repeatedly until the boy's eyes rolled back in his head, unconscious. Tossing the still form on top of Steve, Fred turned back to Lance who was still facing Duncan down.

"Where's Jean?" the leader of the Brotherhood finally asked.

"What do you want, Alvers?" Duncan countered warily, eyes darting nervously to the fallen shapes of his friends.

Lance's smile widened at the question, hands flexing eagerly. "What I've always wanted, _Matthews_," he replied tauntingly, a laugh escaping him. "To stick my foot so far up your ass that you taste your own shit on my shoe! What the hell _else_ would I want, you fucking moron?" Lance's voice crept up in volume as one hand made a fist.

Duncan, casting an appraising glance at something by his feet, suddenly took hold of himself, smiling ingratiatingly at his hostile audience. "Why don't we all calm down and discuss the situation like men. Pussy's nothing to come to blows over, especially when it's being given out for free. You're more than welcome to have a go," Duncan offered crudely, an oily smile lighting his features."Especially since Jeannie's in such a _giving_ mood."

Bile rose sickeningly from Lance's stomach at the other boy's words, filling his mouth with an acrid taste. Without further conversation, he focused his strength, eyes closing with exertion, and the ground began to shake at his command.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Pietro dashed behind the car to look for Jean, face paling at what he found. With numb fingers, he divested himself of his once fine suit jacket, now dusty from his run along the road, and pulled it around her to cover her nakedness. Picking her up the best he could while the earth's trembles gained in strength, he sped back to the safety of his friends, leaving Duncan staring after him with hate-filled eyes as he staggered for steady footing.

Lance, seeing Pietro and Jean at his side, intensified his power until a great gaping hole appeared underneath Duncan's Porsche. He waited until the car sank slightly into the depression - up to the tops of the doors - and then moved the earth back into form again, crushing the car within its grip, better than any auto wrecker could have hoped to accomplish.

"My - my _CAR_!" Duncan screamed crazily, hands pulling at his hair.

"Oh, don't worry, _Dunk_, I was just warming up. I haven't the slightest intention of leaving _you _out of the fun," Lance hissed.

"**I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU**!" the enraged football player shrieked, lunging for the knot of boys at the forefront of the clearing.

Lance shook his head disapprovingly at the other boy's threat, creating another hole just in front of Duncan's moving form so that he stumbled into it with his next step. It was deep enough so that Duncan's head stuck out, the rest of his body hidden from view. With a finesse that he'd been practicing hard to attain, Lance strained, eyes squinting with the effort, so that the ground shuddered back into place, effectively trapping the struggling jock as if he'd been buried from the neck down.

Winded from his exertions, Lance staggered back into Todd who reached out a hand to steady him, his ears registering Pietro's whisper of "My turn" from behind.

The white-haired boy transferred Jean's semi-conscious body into Fred's keeping, flashing a meaningful look at Lance, before striding purposefully over to the only part of Duncan that was still moving: his head. The wrathful blond was effectively stuck, surrounded as he was by mounds of rich silt and clay. It hadn't seemed to faze him though, as he continuously called out obscenities and threats, head twisting frantically as he tried to move the rest of his body.

Pietro looked down at him, arms crossing beneath his chest as a sneer crawled across his features.

Unintelligible gibberish was flowing freely from Duncan's mouth, foamy spittle making a trail down his chin, as Pietro's foot shot out, solidly connecting with the boy's face.

"_That's_ for being an asshole on a daily basis," he said, watching with satisfaction as his kick snapped Duncan's head back forcefully.

His foot shot out again.

"_That's_ for beating up Todd last week!"

And again.

"For insulting Fred every time he passes you in the hall! For tripping me in gym class! For spreading lies about Lance! For having to endure the fucking _sight_ of you!"

And again - again - again - again - again, until his motions blurred with the speed at which he performed.

At Lance's shout of warning, Pietro restrained himself with difficulty, observing the bloodied mess Duncan's face had become under his careful footwork.

Recounting only a few of the reasons for hating Duncan had filled Pietro's veins with fury as dense and burning as molten lava. He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes, breathing heavily, and called on the cool arrogance that was his trademark to reassert itself. Appearing slightly calmer, Pietro made as if to walk away, before spinning around and dealing the jock one last punishing swipe of his booted foot, a hail of crimson droplets pattering along the ground from the impact.

"And _that's_ for what you did to Jean, you bastard."

Jean, her head swimming at the sudden arrival and subsequent rescuing by those she would normally classify as enemies, shivered uncontrollably beneath Pietro's jacket. "W-what? _How_?" she managed to ask, her teeth chattering, seeing their faces turn to regard her as one.

"Oh, god," Lance breathed, seeing her for the first time clearly, obviously taken aback by the sight.

Feeling fresh tears begin to well at their combined scrutiny, she moaned pitifully, trying to bury her face in hands that wouldn't move. Great wracking sobs shook her body as the terror and abject humiliation of the past few minutes?...hours?...lifetimes? she been forced to endure came crashing over her.

"Is she hurt?" she heard Fred ask fearfully, his arms cradling her as carefully as one would a newborn babe.

"Of _course_ she's hurt! We have to get her somewhere warm, someplace with a doctor!" Pietro snapped, glancing at her to see if she could understand his words.

"_NO_!" Jean cried, her world spinning madly out of control at the thought that anyone else should know about what had happened.

Lance came nearer to her, eyes full of...guilt? Regret? She couldn't be sure, the rainbows shining around his head thanks to a system still flooded with Jeff's poison making it hard for her concentrate.

"Jean, we can't stay here - you're cold, and - and injured." He said the word with difficulty.

Feeling as fragile as a tormented, broken kitten, face smeared with smudged make-up and dirt, she still shook her head in the negative at the boy's suggestion, breathing so fast and shallow she wondered if she was starting to hyperventilate. "C-Can't let-t anyone s-see...k-know..._please_..." she begged, her mouth shaping her thoughts like she had never learned to speak.

Todd, staring at Jean with the wide eyes during the whole exchange, turned to Pietro, tugging his sleeve timidly. "We could take her back with us," the smaller boy offered solemnly, suddenly finding himself under the fierce gazes of him teammates as he did so. "At least for the night," he mumbled defensively, looking down at his shoes as their stares intensified.

Jean watched as Lance sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, decision made.

"Fine, for tonight. We'll get her cleaned up and back to the Institute in the morning," he said, turning back to Jean. "Okay?" he asked her, obviously uncomfortable.

Jean made a sound of weary agreement, trying to nod.She knew it was the only option at this point, aside from telling them to leave her right where she was so she could curl up and die, but it didn't look like she'd be so lucky.

Lance started walking out of the grove of trees, his friends following him, leaving the three fallen football players where they lay without a backward glance.

* * *

Logan was furiously driving himself into Amber's slick heat, only half listening to her cries of pleasure, while his mind unconsciously strayed to a thought of Jean, one that he couldn't seem to dislodge, despite utilizing every method for doing so known to him. 

Naked on the ground, obviously in the throes of passion, calling out his name...

The very sound of her voice still echoing in his head brought him to the brink of ecstasy, as he unwittingly replaced Amber's sweaty face with a vision of Jean's.

"Yeah, darlin'..." he growled, newly incited to pump faster and harder into the woman who was serving as a stand in for the true object of his desires.

He was almost there, about to unload himself deep within her softly clenching cavern, when for the second time that night, he heard a voice.

"...light coming from this way - maybe there'll be a car to borrow to get us home," sounded just beyond the woodpile, the numerous footsteps of a small group of people reaching his keen ears, and getting closer.

Making an exasperated noise in the back of his throat, Logan backed away from Amber, pulling up his pants in the process. The girl protested, watching as Logan turned to look off into the darkness of the nearly empty parking lot, quickly jumping down from her perch to smooth her clothes back into order when people emerged from the trees a few steps away, her mouth snapping shut in embarrassment.

Logan's sharp eyesight was put to the test in the surrounding gloom as he tried to ascertain the identities of the late night strollers, the lone voice having sounded strangely familiar to his ears. It wasn't until one of the party's members strode into the glow of an overhead light hanging from the roof of Harry's establishment, that he was able to see what had crawled out from the forest.

"Avalanche," he growled menacing, wondering fleetingly why he and his cronies had come so far out of their way to boost cars, before his wrist flicked out a set of adamantium claws.

Amber, seeing the blades come flying out of Logan's skin, gave a shriek, hands fluttering up to her open mouth in fright.

"Git," Logan said simply, not bothering to look back at her as she took the opportunity to escape her former lover's presence.

Her cry had attracted the attention of the Brotherhood, who'd crouched defensively at hearing it, peering through the shadows in his direction. Deciding to save them the trouble, Logan meandered over, coming into the same circle of light that Lance stood in. He smiled lazily at the boy, not sparing a glance at his three companions.

Lance, to his credit, swallowed uneasily at having run into Logan in the middle of nowhere. The tall boy threw his friends a warning look, silently telling them to back off Logan surmised, hearing the shuffling of their feet as they crept further away from the light.

About to ask the boy what he was doing, a strange smell suddenly floated to Logan's nose. Pausing before he began his interrogation, he raised his head slightly, sniffing delicately at the still evening air.

_Smells like...**Jean**?_ He thought with confusion, eyes narrowing as Lance backed away from him fearfully, still darting furtive glances in the direction of his team. Turning to look fully at the other boys, Logan noticed the big one, Blob, holding something in his arms. Suspicious, the older man closed in on the huge mutant, Jean's scent growing more intense with every breath he took.

"GO!" Lance cried suddenly, his group instantly retreating.

"STAY PUT! Or I'll _find_ ya and _gut_ ya, every last one," Logan said menacingly, satisfied when they stopped moving as one. He advanced on Fred, finally able to see a pair of legs hooked over one elbow, a head of red hair nestled into the other. His heart stopped and his eyes felt like they were going to bulge from their sockets.

**_Jeannie!_**

He took in her tangled hair, legs covered in dirt, shredded tatters of her once beautiful dress that strayed from underneath the man's jacket she was now clothed in, and forced himself to breathe again. Questions overcame the logical part of his mind; he wondered what had happened to her, why she was staring vacantly into space, why she hadn't said anything at the sound of his voice...

"What - did - you - _do_ - to - her?" Logan gasped in a ragged, deadly whisper, claws on his other hand thrusting out instantly.

The boys only stared at him, none of them able to speak.

"That better not be Jeannie's blood I'm smellin', 'cause if it is, all of you will be covered in your own in another second," he promised, his whole being starting to quiver as a tidal wave of animalistic rage coursed through him, replacing the heat in his veins with an iciness he'd never felt before.

As the ferocity he desperately kept locked away most of the time clawed its way out of its prison, it swiftly slashed through every preventative barrier the Professor had helped construct, gaining strength as it progressed through his body.

Logan felt a primal howl building deep in his throat.

"**WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?**" His scream sounded terrifying, even to his ears, as he bounded towards the hapless Blob to snatch Jean away from him. With his blades poised to rake across the boy's heavily jowled face, Toad and Quicksilver leaping to their comrade's aid, Jean's voice sounded, coupling with her teke, halting his strike.

"No!" she said weakly, trembling hands rising to ward off Logan's attack.

Coming up against her tentatively held shield, he looked to her in surprise before his eyes went back to the one that was carrying her. "Give her to me," Logan snapped to Fred, holding his arms out, claws retracting instantly.

"_No_!" came Jean's voice again, this time tinged with something he couldn't identify, as she tried to huddle further away from his reaching hands.

"Jeannie - darlin', it's Logan. I'm gonna take you home," Logan entreated, thinking her still shaken from whatever ordeal she'd been through.

Her response was choked by the onset of another round of copious tears, falling from eyes dilated so wide that they seemed black to Logan's assessing gaze. Her crumpled frame shuddering in agony cut him deeply, her whimpers making him feel like someone was stabbing the vital flesh of his heart repeatedly with barbed needles. He reached out a hand, willing her not to shy away from his touch, and brushed strands of hair from her face as he felt the invisible wall drop away.

She didn't seem to notice his caress, blinking as if trying to correct her vision.

His fingers continued to pet her soothingly, trying to calm her so that he could gather her into his arms and just...hold her. The thought brought him up short, filling him with intense longing.

"Please, Jeannie..." he begged once again, her pain becoming his pain.

She stared at him, as if in sudden recognition.

"You didn't come..." she murmured, words slurring drunkenly.

Feeling the simple statement slam into him like a punch to the face, he looked to her helplessly. "I'm sorry, Jeannie," he whispered, bewildered, devastated, reaching out for her.

"_Called_ you...'pathically..." She seemed bemused at the mention of her power, her hand going to touch her head curiously.

"Jean?" Logan queried before she cut him off.

"You f-forced me _out_!" she said accusingly, nails now digging into her temple.

Grabbing her hand away from her face before she caused any damage, Logan's mind absorbed her words, digesting each syllable until her meaning dawned on him.

"_No_." The word escaped him before he could stop it, seeping from between numb lips on a horrified breath, while his eyes stared at Jean with sick understanding.

_The images in my head, her voice...they'd been cries for **help**... _he realized, replaying them once again.

As her naked body loomed up foremost in his mind, once so alluring, it now became a hateful sight as he finally became aware of what had happened to her, what she'd gone through while he'd been amusing himself with some two-bit whore...

He fought the urge to retch.

Instead, he concentrated on Lance's voice which was now in his ear, pitched low enough so that Jean wouldn't hear it, as the boy related to him as much of the events as he could. Listening until he could stand no more, Logan roughly shoved the boy away, stare still locked on his student.

"Jeannie..." he whispered, voice thick with emotion, not able to say anything beyond her name.

Her head shook from side to side viciously as if trying not to hear him, her mouth mumbling incoherently.

"Jeannie..._please_..." Logan repeated, arms trembling as he lifted them towards her, eyes beseeching.

"Leave me," she muttered, not looking at him.

Slipping his hands under her body, blood showing starkly against the white flesh of her thighs, Logan started to pull her away from an unresisting Fred, slowly, so slowly...

"**GET AWAY FROM ME**!" Jean shrieked suddenly, telekinetically propelling him into the ground several paces away, the impact startling more than hurting him.

Logan sat up, his ears ringing from the unexpected violence of her attack, meeting Jean's baleful stare as she panted from exertion. For once in his life, he felt bereft, not knowing what to do. How was he supposed to help her if she wouldn't let him get close enough to do so? All he wanted to do was help...

"I'm _n-not_ going with you, Logan. L-leave me _alone,_" her hushed voice spat, crushing him more completely than her mind assault ever could have.

Logan hung his head in defeat, a sick laugh in his throat.

He knew, with a sinking feeling, that her trust in him had run out.

After he'd done everything possible the other night to destroy any illusion she'd had about him, slashing through her beliefs as if his words and actions had been his unsheathed claws, her trial tonight, which his protection hadn't kept her from, had finished the rest of the work for him.

She didn't want him anymore...and something that never had a chance to thrive in the hostile environment of his heart, died at realizing that.

He stole another glance at her, face stoic beneath the pain that caused his insides to spasm, turning his guts to jelly, and saw that she was practically unconscious after her outburst. Face illuminated by the cool wash of moonlight, dirty, still glistening with the remnants of her tears, brows drawn together in agitation though she slumbered, Logan thought she had never looked more beautiful. He wished that he could tell her that.

But Lance was giving him a questioning look, one that Logan nodded to, though he felt more like raking his claws across the teen's throat in his bitterness at allowing Jean be taken from him. The Brotherhood's leader watched him a moment longer before motioning to his friends, heading towards the cars still parked outside the bar.

Logan saw the briefest flash of a tendril of Jean's russet hair before she was deposited into the pickup truck the boys had managed to find unlocked. The stolen vehicle's lights came on, engine roaring to life, and then it was turning onto the road, its winking taillights fading into the distance.

Logan was left standing, staring in the direction of the lights long after they'd disappeared.

His blood thrummed through his body, heavy and incessant, as he tried to grapple with the influx of feelings that he finally allowed himself to acknowledge. They fluttered through his head and dove deep into his chest, each a fragment of something bigger, so that when he pieced them together, he nearly cried out in anguish at the result.

_Oh God...I **love** her..._ he realized, breathless and staggering beneath the weight of that one, pure statement.

_I love her... I love her..._

The echoes rang inside his skull, deafening him with their insistence.

He clapped his hands over his ears as if still trying to deny the truth, surprised at the alien wetness that was now clinging to his dark lashes. Wiping the drops of salty liquid away, he looked to the eastern skyline and saw the faintest blush of dawn beginning to stain the clouds that hovered above. With effort, he pulled himself together.

_It's useless hidin', I won't do it anymore..._ he thought in resignation, making his way back to his bike, needing to get away from the shadows that moved fearfully with the approach of morning.

Hopping onto the dew-covered machine, Logan kicked it to life, hearing it snarl with ears turned inward as he coasted onto the road. Speeding dangerously in the pre-dawn twilight, the wind like an icy breath on his face, he blamed the resurgence of the moisture in his eyes on the force of the chill blast of air that ripped past him.

_I love her..._ whispered in his mind again.

_...love her...and already lost her..._

His soul fairly screamed in protest.

He pushed down on the hurt, shaking his head with sudden determination, eyes drying angrily.

_I'm not gonna give up on ya, Red...now that I finally see...finally know...finally **feel**..._

He knew that the end hadn't come yet.

_It can't be over - not now that I'm **awake**, Jeannie..._

_Awake for the first time in my life...

* * *

**CONTINUED IN TRIAL BY FIRE** _


End file.
